


In The Mirror

by Sarah Problem (SarahProblem)



Series: Come With Me [18]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Complete, Dubious Consent, Episode: s02e10 Mirror Mirror, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Couple, Married Kirk/McCoy, Mention of torture, Mirror Universe, Off screen Torture, mention of animal torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 03:52:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 47,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16716077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahProblem/pseuds/Sarah%20Problem
Summary: Lost in another universe, with no friends and no backup, can the Enterprise and the Defiant find what they need to make it back home?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the continuation of story #17, "Lost". You have to have read that one to understand this one.

   

 In the Mirror

 by Sarah Problem

 

 

 

 

James Tiberius Kirk, Sub-Commander of the Vulcan High Command Starship,  _Vakh Art'u_ , winced as the comm in his bedroom went off. The grating chirp could only be from one person.

 _Damn it!_ Kirk thought angrily as he pushed himself up from under the tangle of sheets around him.  _Never fucking fails. Just when I was drifting off. Damned Vulcans and their fucked-up sleep cycles._

He sat up in the large bed and cleared his throat before answering.

"Sub-Commander Kirk, here, Captain Spock."

"Sub-Commander, am I intruding?" Spock's voice was controlled and unconcerned, but Kirk could hear disapproval in it.

Of course, Spock knew he was intruding on the Human's sleep time. There was only one answer to that direct question.

"No, Sir. Of course not."

"Good. I'm calling you in for a meeting in the Ready Room in an hour. Do not be late."

_God! Five fucking seconds late to **one**  meeting... _

"Yes, Sir," Kirk replied, keeping his voice neutral. "I will be there on time."

The comm clicked off and Kirk looked at it sourly. He was never really sure that those things didn't record what was said after they were switched off. He knew most of the ship was recorded and he wouldn't put it past the half-breed to keep the channel open just a few seconds longer than expected. If he were the Captain, it's what he'd do.

"Lights on!" Kirk ordered roughly, swinging his legs out of bed. He glanced over at the young woman who had crawled to the edge of the bed, as far away from him as she could get. He saw her wince when the lights came on. She was young and barely out of the Academy. Part of the Biology department, he'd been amused at her lack of skills when it came to ship-board sex. She knew better now.

_What the hell is her name again? Torry? Terry? Tracy? Who cares?_

It didn't matter. Tracy looked a bit disheveled, her long brown hair matted and tangled. She didn't glance up at him but tried to cover up her nakedness even more. Or, at least, hide the bruises she'd have developing soon. He turned away from her with disinterest. She thought she could just sidle up to him, flirt and see if she could become his woman? Hell, she hadn't even been a good fuck. She hadn't struggled nearly enough to be entertaining, let alone take her on permanently.

He took no one on permanently. It was how people got fucked over. He'd worked too hard to become Sub-Commander to let anyone in who could betray him later.

"Get the hell out," he growled at her over his shoulder as he headed for the 'fresher. "Best hope you don't draw my attention again. I won't be so nice next time."

He didn't look back but could hear her move quickly to throw on some clothes, her breathing ragged and harsh. He knew she'd wanted to leave when he'd been done with her a few hours ago. But he usually liked a good morning fuck, so hadn't given her permission to leave. As he entered the 'fresher, he could hear her scrambling to race off like the scared rabbit she was.

"Computer! Read me the current status report."

He stepped into the shower as the computer read the reports. Everything was in the red, the Vulcan color for all systems good, so there shouldn't be anything he was going to be called onto the carpet for. He shook his head under the spray, careful not to take too long before turning the water off. Vulcan ship, Vulcan hours, Vulcan color systems, Vulcan water usage... They were stingy bastards when it came to water, even though they had the Earth and various other water planets under their rule to siphon as they wanted _._

_Just another way they keep us under their thumbs._

Kirk soaped himself up, glad he'd gotten his hair trimmed the day before. At least the regulation buzz cut didn't take long, but it did have to be done often. Vulcans had a thing for savagely controlled hair.

_Just like everything else they have rules for in their service. Short hair, no facial hair, official permission needed for marriages or families, mandatory birth control, get used to it being fucking hot all the time, or you get kicked out._

_If we'd only been more advanced at First Contact, we wouldn't have been so ripe for the picking. If humanity hadn't had its head up its own ass for so long and hadn't used all our resources, killed most of our scientists off in the early wars, maybe we would've been prepared for invaders from outer space._

_And we wouldn't be one step above fucking slaves. Just like the other planets the Vulcans take over. Cannon fodder for their wars with the Klingons and Surakkians. If only it had been Humans who'd come out on top, we'd be in control, and not them._

As he turned the water back on, he rinsed off quickly. He tried not to get himself worked up over useless agonizing over a situation he'd been born into. At least he'd had his father's and brother's service records to help get him into the Academy. With them both dead and gone in different border skirmishes, James Kirk had been left the sole family heir, his mother having had her two allotted children. Which meant his first assignments weren't border patrols like the ones that killed his dad and Sam.

His grades had been high enough to keep him on the command track, as limited as it was for any non-Vulcan. And he'd been able to pull a better position on one of their Acquisition and Enforcement ships, the  _Vakh Art'u_ , rather than a boring cargo guardship. He'd even managed to work his way up to Sub-Commander at such a young age. How many Humans even lived long enough to make it to Sub-Commander?

He dressed quickly, watching the clock. He wanted a coffee, badly, but he didn't have time. And since Vulcan's weren't big on stimulants, he'd not be offered any during the meeting. He put on his uniform, dark blue with silver piping, his silver designation sash hanging across his chest. Kirk made sure his rank pin was centered correctly. The arrowhead shape of the Vulcan High Command's Starfleet badge made a sharp copper outline on the silver material. The starburst of a phaser blast in the center designating the  _Vakh Art'u_  itself. He checked himself out carefully in the mirror. He frowned at the circles under his eyes.

_I shouldn't have stayed up all night. But how the hell can I know Spock's going to call me in the morning hours? Not like the bastard sleeps much himself._

Knowing there wasn't anything to do but get on with it, Kirk left the 'fresher and strode into the corridor. His preferred Personal Guard, Hendorff, was on shift outside his door. Kirk pretended to ignore the Guard as he walked down the corridor. He didn't look at Hendorff when he muttered to him. "Anything new?"

"No, Sir."

Hendorff, a large and powerful man, had earned Kirk's trust the hard way. Hendorff had blocked one planned attack and one actual attack on Kirk in the last six months alone. He was also quietly respectful and didn't seem to get riled up easily.

"There's some scuttle-butt about Lieutenant Cavers getting beat up again. The usual speculation on how long it's going to take to get that new Ensign in the MedBay to crack and start paying out for the good painkillers. Nothing too dangerous to you, Sir."

"Not that the good ones would let any word get out," Kirk said quietly as he walked. He took a glance at Hendorff's face. The man didn't look concerned.

"No, Sir. Not if they had any brains at all," Hendorff agreed, eyes on the crowd around them. "Everyone's shooting for a promotion with the new set of battleships being commissioned soon."

"Assassination, the gift that just keeps on giving," Kirk said with a smirk.

As they rounded the corridor, Kirk quickly schooled his face. He'd caught a glimpse of the black-uniformed individuals who were coming toward them from down the corridor, creating a fearful opening around them. He heard Hendorff grunt unhappily behind him.

_The Inquisitors? This must be a more important meeting than I thought._

Kirk slowed his stride a bit, not wanting to spend any more time with Inquisitors Uhura and McCoy then he had to.

Inquisitor, Master-Level Thirteen, Nyota Uhura, was a striking Human. Her dark skin and hair a soft counterpoint to the matt black of her form-fitting uniform that was trimmed in dark green. Her Inquisitor ranking embroidered in Vulcan script from the top of her left shoulder down to her waist in blood-colored green. The music-like script a decoration all in itself, unless one knew how to read it and understood who the Inquisitors were. And what Human in Starfleet didn't?

Her hair, done in the current Vulcan civilian style, was pulled back into a high, architectural design at the back of her head, in which was woven a string of very small pearls. It gave her the illusion of more height than she actually had and a deceptively soft appearance. All seemed to frame her dark, intelligent eyes in a way that Kirk found enchantingly sexy and exceedingly dangerous.

 _She's still Human,_ Kirk thought with appreciation, working to keep his thoughts from his face. He tried to ignore her companion.  _But I'm not sure McCoy is anymore. Bastard gives me the creeps with that golden eye. Which is probably what he wanted._

Just a step behind her, to her left, was Inquisitor Master-Level Eleven McCoy. The man always gave Kirk chills. There was something about the way his eyes watched Kirk that made his skin crawl. Dressed all in black as was Uhura, McCoy wore it like armor. Tall, a touch of gray showing at the temples of his buzz cut, the man would have been striking without the rank of Medical Inquisitor and the gold-colored prostheses. He had the confident, relaxed but powerful movement of a Terran snake and was just as deadly.

While Uhura could interrogate anyone in any dozens of languages and was trained in the arts of body language in most of them, McCoy was the one who actually did the torture at her order. Kirk had seen some of McCoy's files when he and Uhura had been assigned as the  _Vakh Art'u's_  Inquisitor team. A brilliant Doctor when he wanted to be, the man enjoyed the nastier side of his medical education. Maybe too much. Kirk suspected Humans like him were the reason Vulcans didn't tend to mind-meld to get what they wanted from prisoners. For Vulcan's, it was intrusive, damaging and demeaning to force themselves to meld with an inferior species.

Why involve one's self if Humans could do the job and enjoy it?

 _What kind of doctor gets tagged by the Vulcans for Inquisitor work? Torture, at that? And what's with that eye?_  Kirk wondered. _Did he really scoop it out with a fork, just to get the enhancement? He's never had the scars fixed, so he must get off on it somehow._

McCoy would have been a gorgeous man, without the flaw of scarring around his left eye and cheek. The scars were raw and bruised looking, as if someone had recently tried to gouged out the prosthesis as well in a very painful manner. Only Kirk knew the scars were old and not as fresh as they appeared.

_I'll bet credits that he's had the scars colored, so they always look bloody and raw. Not a bad idea, intimidation wise._

The eye itself was Vulcan tech and not at all Human looking. It was all gold, with no pupil. It glinted in various shades of gold as McCoy looked around. Kirk knew from the files that it was a high-tech medical scanner, so he didn't need to carry much equipment with him when he tortured people. He could watch the victim suffer in more ways than one.

And the Inquisitor seemed to want to draw attention to the golden eye, by lining the right one with some kind of dark liner, which accented the hazel of it and made his lashes look long.

Kirk had once heard Uhura laugh as she talked to McCoy under her breath at the end of one long interrogation, after a failed assassination against Spock. Kirk had just caught her 'Beauty  _and_  the Beast' comment as she walked by McCoy, her hand touching his chin as he smiled wickedly at her.

That they were lovers, Kirk had no doubt. Which was always useful information. If you knew a person's weakness, you knew where to hit them.

Kirk blanked his mind as they came upon Captain Spock's Ready Room. His destination clearly coinciding with theirs.

While Uhura nodded at Kirk with casual disinterest, the way McCoy's eyes raked over him whenever they were both in the same room was more than a bit unnerving. And Kirk knew he wasn't the only one who steered a wide berth around the pair when he could. Inquisitors needed no guards against assassination. If any Inquisitor on any ship was harmed outside of actual combat or in the line of duty, that whole ship would tend to disappear into the VHC's Political and Security Division and the ship released with a new crew almost immediately.

Academy Cadets learned early on that no one asked if any of the old crew ever resurfaced again. No one really wanted the answer to that, or to be caught asking.

"Inquisitor Uhura. McCoy," Kirk said neutrally as he came to the door and waited for them to arrive.

"Sub-Commander," Uhura said, her expression polite. "I see Captain Spock must have something interesting going on, to call us all to this early morning meeting."

"I can only assume so," Kirk replied casually, waving Uhura ahead of him to the door with a slight bow. "The Captain is not a frivolous being."

Uhura nodded, then strode into the Ready Room as the doors slid open. Kirk froze as McCoy's eyes, accompanied by a small and foreboding smile, seemed to scan over Kirk appreciatively as he followed Uhura into the room.

Kirk fought not to act like a mouse in the black snake's gaze. It was all he could do not to shiver.

Reluctantly, he followed the two in, leaving Hendorff to watch the door outside.

The heat in the room was high, but not oppressively so. Kirk knew it for the slight favor it was. Captain Spock sat at his desk, facing the door to the corridor, his two Vulcan guards standing just inside the Ready Room door, at attention. Kirk ignored them as he walked into the room.

The Ready Room was large enough for a group meeting but held no large table. Those in attendance did not sit in front of Captain Spock. The walls themselves were a study in angles, layered with engraved metal plates arranged in the Vulcan mix of protection and art. The copper-red coloring native to the Vulcan homeworld evident in the material of the walls and the use of the dark, compact-wood of the Captain's desk.

Behind that desk, in his thickly woven dark blue uniform, his rank clear in the dark-green piping on his suit and the studs at his collar, Captain Spock sat looking at the monitor in the clear desktop. His dark eyes not even flickering toward the new arrivals. As usual, even at this early hour, Spock was impeccably dressed. His dark hair formed a sleek cap on his head and his Van-Dyke beard framed a strong face. Not much under two meters tall, Spock was broad, powerfully built, and could command the room just by his presence.

Under VHC rule, while Spock could technically advance to Commander someday, the highest rank Kirk could attain as a Human would be Captain. But Kirk wasn't stupid. He knew the VHC would never advance Spock. Not with his Human taint. So, Kirk was in a dead-end job, seeing as how Spock could naturally out-live everyone on the ship, including Kirk. ' _Naturally'_  being the operative word.

 _One of these days, I'm going to see him do something human,_ Kirk thought to himself, keeping his face neutral.  _And then I can start to make plans._

Kirk stood at attention just to the left of Uhura and McCoy, waiting to be noticed. He tried to keep his eyes on the wall behind the desk. He knew Spock wasn't stupid and would know that Kirk would strike whenever he felt he had the advantage. The less personal contact they had between them, the fewer tells Kirk could advertently give him. He didn't want the Vulcan to think he could really know what Kirk was thinking at any given time. There was a very fine line between being respectful of an adversary and knowing them enough to be able to predict when they were gearing up for a strike.

"We will be arriving at the Halkan homeworld in two weeks," Spock said, finally looking up at the new arrivals. "The last dilithium shipment to the High Command was substandard and below quota. We are to attend to that."

"Annihilation, Sir?" Uhura asked, with what Kirk thought was the hit of an anticipatory smile.

"Not at this time," Spock said with a shake of his head. He sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers under his chin, looking thoughtful. "Dilithium mining would suffer if we were to annihilate the local population. The delay in bringing in new colonist to replace the natives would be unacceptable. There is, however, some concerns in the Vulcan High Command that this area, being so close to the Surakkian Neutral Zone and the Tholians, that there may be some dilithium making its way to the High Command's enemies."

"You think the Halkans could be smuggling?" Kirk asked in surprise. "If anyone could find an undetectable way in and out of the Neutral Zone and through to the Surakkians, that would be a huge attack advantage for us."

"Captain?" McCoy asked softly, head down in sublimation. As Uhura's subordinate, McCoy had to get permission to speak.

"You may speak," Spock said, his eyes sharp on McCoy.

"My understanding," McCoy said, "is that the Halkans are a pacifistic humanoid species. And that they originally declined to give us their dilithium and refused to join the Vulcan High Command."

"Correct," Spock replied.

"And that the original Halkan Council was wiped out," McCoy continued. "Leaving them to put the secondary council together from the survivors. That was only a few years ago. Do you think they'd really have grown a backbone in that amount of time?"

Kirk raised his hand for permission to speak, which Spock gave with a nod.

"There was," Kirk began, "very little research done on the Halkan and their Council before the High Command ordered their removal. There could have been a faction that favored trade or other relations with the Surakkian Union. The Surakkians are, after all, known to be peace loving and soft, as the Halkan claimed to be. But that doesn't mean that by taking out the peaceful leader that the High Command didn't leave those of a more rebellious nature in charge."

"Very true," Uhura said, a smirk on her face. "Which is why a full planetary cleansing is usually ordered in these cases."

"An oversight on the part of the Captain of the  _Enforcer_ , who addressed the earlier issue," Spock said. "Which we will now need to follow up. As I have said, the lag time in mining the dilithium at this time is unacceptable. There have been... setbacks, in several of the skirmishes along the Klingon and Surakkian borders. The need for the dilithium is as high as it's ever been. If we can follow this up without destroying the mining population, it would save us much processing time."

Kirk kept his poker face when the Captain mentioned the High Command's losses. He'd heard rumors that the double-headed war was not going well for them at this time. But long-term, strategic information was not usually one shared with Captains, let alone Sub-Commanders. Vulcans didn't like to be seen as weak, that their war plans had not produced the predicted results, nor be second-guessed by their troops in the field. A weapon didn't need to know how the war was going when it was used. Neither did Starfleet's ships.

_Spock's being fed information we don't usually get. Because of his birth-right, being a Vulcan, or does he have his own sources inside the VHC? That could be important to know. If the VHC is playing favorites with him, or he has some hidden supporters, then maybe a move on him would be ill-timed right now. At least, until I can find out more._

"And you want us to dig any resistance out for you?" Uhura asked, her smile full. "I'm sure McCoy and I can do that."

"We will not have the time to indulge your... proclivities, Interrogator," Spock said. "We have a time limit. Dilithium production quotas must be met. So, I am going to have you work with the Sub-Commander on this. He will be lead on this assignment. I will send you down to the planet to meet with their council and spend some time getting to know them. To see what they are like, before we take any steps to address the situation."

Dread settled over Kirk. Inquisitors did not take kindly to taking orders and were usually the lead in such assignments. And with these two, Kirk wasn't sure how Uhura would take to being his subordinate.

Now, Uhura was frowning. McCoy looked angry.

"Beg your pardon, Captain," Uhura said smoothly, her eyes sharp. "You know our record, Captain. McCoy and I can produce the results you will need to--"

"I  _have_  my reasons, Inquisitor," Spock said sharply. "You will follow the Sub-Commanders orders, accompany him to meet with the Halkan council and let him ingratiate himself amongst the leaders. Then, we will decide how, when and to whom you may practice your craft upon, Inquisitor. But not until my order. You and McCoy are excused."

Kirk could almost feel the anger radiate from the two in black. But they steeled their faces and nodded at Kirk before turning and heading for the door. Kirk caught a bit of an angry glare from McCoy.

 _Don't like me, asshole? Same here,_ Kirk thought as the two left the room.  _At least if I have command, I don't have to put up with your shit. I know Captain Spock trusts me more than he does you two._

Someone who'd gotten to know Spock over a period of time could see the slight signs of tension drift away from the half-Vulcan.

"Sub-Commander," Spock said, eyes now on Kirk. "You will meet with the Halkans and ingratiate yourself with them. If we must use the Inquisitor's skills, I want it to be on the right people and produce solid results. Pacifists tend not to survive interrogation. Their lives could be put to better use."

"Hostages?" Kirk asked. It wasn't unheard of, but the VHC was more prone to permanent and violent means to get what they wanted. Vulcans may live for hundreds of years, but their politics had little patience for the lower species.

Spock nodded. "If necessary. But I am concerned about the possibility of smuggling. If it is not dealt with now, we will find the  _Vakh Art'u_  drawn into more conflicts in the future. If we can find any signs of such activity and follow it back to the source, it can be nipped in the bud now. If we go in and kill _all_  the local population, we may be losing information that the Vulcan High Command would find useful in our wars. But we do not have unlimited time in this."

"A deadline?" Kirk asked.

Spock nodded again. "We have five Vulcan days to get the dilithium production up again before we have to move on and the High Command send in replacement miners."

Kirk felt his eyebrows rise. "Five days? That's not a lot of time to work my way into their good graces and gain any sort of trust. And I suspect that's not even a goodly amount of time for the Inquisitors to set in a campaign of terror. Uhura is not going to like it."

"What she likes or does not like is of no concern," Spock said dismissively. "I expect you to use the Inquisitor's presence to our advantage, while not allowing them free reign. As of yet."

"You mean, just seeing them may loosen some Halkan tongues," Kirk said with a smile. "And make me look like the better choice of contact between the Halkan Council and you."

"Just so," Spock said, a slight hint of approval on his face that Kirk hoped he wasn't just imagining. "You will report to me every five hours unless you find something of import. I will supply you with a specifically programmed communicator that will bypass the bridge and the communications department. You will report to me only and do exactly as I say with the information."

Spock looked up at him gravely, his eyes hard. "I will suffer  _no_  mistakes in this instance, Sub-Commander. You will unquestioningly follow my orders. To fail to do so will give me cause to demote you and assign you to the Inquisitors as further punishment. They do tend to get... a bit wound up during long periods of time with no one to practice their talents on. Especially, McCoy."

A shiver ran through Kirk and he tried hard not to show it. The things he'd heard about bored Inquisitors...

"Understood, Captain," Kirk replied quickly. "I shall not fail you."

"No," Captain Spock said shortly, turning his attention back to the screen in his desk. "You won't. Dismissed."

Kirk kept his walk to the door confident, not wanting Spock to see how spooked he felt.

_Five days doesn't sound like the amount of time the High Command would give to ferret out a smuggling operation. That's more the time they'd give to either get the missing dilithium quota and the mines back into production or annihilate the leaders. Then give the populace a few days to get back to work._

_I have a feeling this smuggling idea is Spock's own. The mines, could, after all, be close to being depleted with the upsurge in Starfleet's dilithium use. So, why suspect smuggling? Does he have sources telling him so?_

_Why do I have the feeling I'm going to be the scapegoat in whatever plan he's got going on?_

_Probably because It's what I'd do if I were him._

 

***

 

Doctor Leonard McCoy sat alone at the table in the  _Enterprise_ 's Ready Room, early for the meeting Jim had called. With his head back, eyes closed, arms across his chest, he tried to relax and rest.

After beaming back to the  _Enterprise_  with Jim once they decided they were as safe as they were going to get in the middle of nowhere, limping on impulse, McCoy had used his two hours to check in with M'Benga and Davidson. He made sure that a search for a replacement for the theragen solution was still ongoing, pulled up a few  _Enterprise_  crewmen in to make sure they had come out of the rift mentally intact, and then had headed for his cabin for a shower.

He'd almost hope he'd run into Jim there. But it was probably for the best that he hadn't. A shower  _and_  impromptu sex weren't going to be on Jim's schedule any time soon. Not when he had two ships to manage and protect, in a strange universe. Which meant a lot of juggling of systems that did work and making plans to fix or replace those that didn't. McCoy had had to settle for the shower; a peek at his bonsai tree and another meal of a gods-awful ration bar. Their bed only got a long, hard, coveting look. He may not see it again for a while.

Three hours after barreling out of the rift, they were only getting started on figuring out what to do next.

The door slid open, and Uhura came in. She looked every bit as tired as McCoy felt. He was glad it was her. They could chat about nothing and keep the real world at bay for a few more minutes.

"Catching a nap?" She asked, coming around to take the chair next to his.

"Jim has nice chairs," McCoy said with a shrug. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, his head propped up in his hand to look at her as she settled. "You can get in a quick nap if you want."

Uhura moaned and rolled her eyes as she pulled up something on her PADD. "Not in this universe. Not yet. Too busy."

"Get your dinner?"

"Ugh. Yes. At least this space is normal. We get the biomass replaced on both ships, we can use the replicators again," Uhura gave him a wry smile. "I'm beginning to think I'd trade my first born for chocolate and coffee."

"My daydreams are filled with coffee," McCoy admitted. He sighed. "Wish I'd saved one of Jim's Orion cookies."

"Jim had  _Orion_ cookies?" Uhura asked, surprised. "I've heard of them. Have you tasted one?"

"Some small bites, whenever I found out where he was hiding them."

"Are they as mind-blowingly good as --?"

"Every  _damn_ bit of it," McCoy admitted with a smile. "Like the first few seconds after orgasm, only with the flavor of Orion's version of triple chocolate fudge dancing on your tongue and inside your brain. Chocolate sex. A fudge coma. Someday, when we can find another box of them, you and I will have to find a dark, hidden place on the ship and indulge."

"Oh, you  _promise_?" Uhura said with a yearning moan.

"Cross my heart," McCoy said. "We'll make a night of it. Find a vid we both want to watch and pack on a week's worth of Orion calories in one evening."

"What happened to them?"

"Gave them to a crewman on the  _Defiant_  with a starvation phobia," McCoy said with a sigh. "It was either that or sign away a week's worth of rations."

"You said you  _found_  them?" Uhura asked with a smile. "What was Jim doing with Orion cookies you didn't know about?"

"Some ambassador from a new membership planet gave them to him, just before we left for that huge void." McCoy shrugged. "Some kind of  _'Thank You'_  for something the  _Enterprise_  did. Jim didn't want to insult or embarrass them by giving them back.

"Figured I wouldn't let him eat them and didn't want to recycle them so just tossed them in a drawer, where I found them. So, it became one of those stupid games we play. He hides them, and I find them and threaten to recycle them. We both take a nibble. Then he takes them away to hide them again. Those things  _never_  decay. There were only six cookies, but we could have played that game for ages before we nibbled through the last one. I'm going to miss that box."

Uhura chuckled. "I can understand that. It's always the little things that make life bearable on a ship. Especially games."

McCoy a gave her an evil smile and waggled his eyebrows at her.

"You and Spock have any... games?"

Uhura laughed out loud. " _That_ information is going to cost you more than half a box of cookies."

"I'll start saving up to buy two boxes, then," McCoy promised with a wink. "One to bribe you with."

The door from the corridor slipped open, and Chekov slipped in. Jim, Spock, Sulu, and Scotty weren't far behind.

McCoy sat up and got ready to take notes if he needed to.

 _Back to the real world and real work,_ he thought tiredly.  _Even if it's not the right universe. **Especially**  if it's not the right universe._

Everyone got settled quickly. Sulu making a point not to sit in the head chair.

_Jim's still definitely Captain of both ships. Acting Captain Sulu is making that clear. Has anyone else ever done that? Captained two ships at once?_

"Let me sum up what we know," Jim began, looking tired but hopeful. "Definitely _not_  our universe. We'll get into specifics later. Spock, go over the basics, starting with ship's operations."

Spock nodded. "Now that we are outside the area affected by the rift, we find that this area of space seems to obey the same rules as ours. Our transporters are now safe to use. The biomass on the  _Enterprise_  has stopped decaying but is unusable. Once replaced, the recyclers and replicators should work as designed."

"We can't salvage any of it?" McCoy asked.

"No," Spock answered. "I would recommend transporting the decayed biomass to space and vacuum disinfecting the holding area. That way we can restock the biomass in a clean space and begin processing what ship waste is being produced already."

"But we will have the same degradation of the mass once we go back through the rift?" Chekov asked. "It will fall apart?"

"All indicators say that is true if we stay in the rift for more than an hour or so," Spock agreed. "Our research into that area of space tells us that, eventually, all matter trapped there will fall apart. There would be no way to protect the mass."

"Nor our brains," McCoy said grimly. "We can slow it down and protect against misfires in the brain, but eventually we'd have to put people in comas to keep them from becoming violent and delusional. At that point, we'd all probably be starving to death anyway."

"It's apparent that the null space is not conducive to life, or even matter," Jim said. "Nothing would last more than a few months, our time. Although it may seem like more than that to those inside. Scotty, report on our condition, both ships."

Scotty, his face hard and unhappy, shook his head. "Forcing our way out of that area has damaged the dilithium crystals in both ships. The spare we have on the  _Enterprise_  has degraded a wee bit from the null space. The  _Defiant's_  spare is nae usable from null space exposure. We now have impulse power on both ships, and we both have warp two and below. At the moment. So, we won't be floating free and bumpin' into things. But more than warp two, for too long and both will crack, and we'll be down to impulse only."

"We don't have enough power to punch both ships back into the null," Sulu said, " _and_ then again punch back out through the other end of the filament, to get home."

"Gotta be at least warp four," Scotty said. "We may be able to hit that with what power we've got and  _force_  ourselves into the rift. But it's possible we'd be stuck inside again with cracked dilithium, without the power or speed to pop us out the other side. We can change out the spares in a few minutes if we have them ready. Then hit warp to enter our own universe.

"That's assuming, of course, we've got that filament still in place, keepin' that small bit of space at each end extra weak and the cloak to warp space even further. Without those two, we may have to hit it at a higher warp. There's no telling what that would do to the ships, or us."

"Spock," Jim said, turning to him. "What about the filament? How long will it last?"

"Unknown, Captain," Spock said reluctantly. "Starfleet has nothing in its records about the process the Tholians used to create it. Without a lot of time to study the phenomena, I can't say how it is powered and how long it will last. With time flowing faster in the null, the Tholians may have only experienced hours since we left, and thus will keep the web active for quite some time."

"Or, maybe, they can't turn it off," Scotty said. "With it stuck in the rift and two universes, they may not be able to pull the plug."

"We may be able to enter the rift without it," Jim said, "but let's get back to it as quickly as we can."

They were all silent for a few seconds. McCoy knew everyone had hundreds of details they were mentally juggling.

"So, we need  _two_ new ship-grade crystals at a minimum," Sulu said, arms crossed as he sat back in his chair. "Best case,  _four_  or more."

"The more, the merrier," Scotty agreed.

" _If_  the goal is to return  _both_  ships," Spock added, looking steadily at Jim. "With saving the  _Defiant's_  crew now not possible, we can still salvage  _one_  ship and crew. If we destroyed one, then our technology would not interfere with this universe by being left behind."

"But, it ees the  _Defiant_  that has the cloaking device we need to get back into the rift," Chekov said worriedly.

McCoy could see the others glance at each other out of the corner of his eye. He kept his eyes on Jim.

Jim's face grew hard, and he set his jaw.

"Our orders are clear. The  _Enterprise_  herself is expendable," Jim said in an even voice, his eyes on the PADD in front of him. "The crew is not. I've put together emergency evacuation plans to get everyone to the  _Defiant_  in case only one can be saved. The  _Enterprise_ 's Auto-Destruct is undamaged, so the good news is that we won't need to leave anyone behind to trigger it."

McCoy almost sighed in relief. If they could get the crew home, on the  _Defiant_ , then the  _Enterprise_ 's destruction wouldn't be in vain, and no one would have to stay behind.

_I know he wants both ships home safe, but we'll need to take whatever win we can get. Even if it means we all lose our personal items. People come first._

"So, that gives us two immediate goals," Jim continued. "We need to find two warp-grade dilithium crystals, four if we want to have spares. And we need biomass replacement for both ships and as much fresh food and emergency rations as we can get ahold of. We'll need both items whether we try a run for home again..." Jim frowned. "Or not. If we can't go home, we'll need to find someplace to settle. Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

 _We really could be stuck here,_ McCoy thought. _How much are we willing to gamble to get back home? Is it worth our lives? Getting stuck again and going mad, with slow starvation? That's going to be a damned hard choice to make if things go bad._

"Sulu, report on our navigational issues," Jim ordered.

"So far, this space is nearly identical to ours, star wise," Sulu replied. "Although in this universe there's a large nebula where we have the empty space where we found the  _Goliath_. It may be that over time, with the galaxies drifting, that matter from one Universe fell into the rift and ended up here."

"So, that may be why ours has nothing in that spot?" Chekov asked. "There ees, or was, flow between the two?

"It is a hypothesis," Spock agreed.

"A question for Starfleet's best, when we get home," Jim said. He looked thoughtful and started drumming his fingers on the tabletop. "So, we have space that we can maneuver in and needs that this universe may be able to fulfill, but only warp two for both ships. And to top it all off, a cloaking device  _we_  haven't tested yet and no on-line operations manual that survived. Uhura, what have you been able to deduce about the social and political structures here? How similar are they to our universe?"

Uhura took a moment, looking as if she was still deciding what was the most important information to share.

"There seems to be a  _version_  of Starfleet with the same name," Uhura began. "I can copy, but can't open, any data-packets that they are sending on the regular channels. But I  _can_  read the tags. I've also been able to catch stray subspace broadcasts."

Uhura shook her head. "This is just preliminary, but in this universe it seems that Starfleet is run by the Vulcan High Command. Starfleet Headquarters is based on Vulcan, and all high-level command packets have the VHC origination tag. In the Vulcan language. All of them. Mr. Spock has verified that the language used is the same Vulcan language we are both familiar with.

"There may be, of course, exceptions when it comes to historical references that we may not understand, in normal conversations. But they seem to keep the Vulcan language to higher-level functions. They seem to use Standard much as we do, as a non-species-specific language developed to be the standard language across cultures and species. Samples I've been able to hear and read seem identical to our Standard, with some cultural references we don't share."

"So, we should be able to communicate in Standard with anyone in the Federation?" Jim asked.

"In this area, yes, Sir," Uhura said with a frown. "But I haven't seen anything suggesting that the  _Federation_  exists."

"I have only glanced at the bits of communications the Lieutenant has been able to collect," Spock said. "I believe that this area of space is under the jurisdiction of the Vulcan High Command only and Starfleet is their military service. All other species we have in our Federation seem to be species subjugated to the Vulcan High Command."

McCoy glanced around at the others. Everyone looked as surprised as he felt.

"You mean,  _instead_  of the Federation?" McCoy asked. "Do they lead, or rule?"

"Indicators are that they rule," Spock answered. "They are a militaristic organization, with the Vulcans as the ruling class and a heavy use of subjugated cultures in dangerous occupations and in war. More reminiscent of the Romulans, in our universe. And they are at war, with the Klingons and the Surakkian Union."

"Surakkian Union?" McCoy asked with confusion.

"I suspect, from the small amount of information we have gathered from their news-vids," Spock began, "that in this universe, Surak's  _'Time of Great Awakening'_  on Vulcan did not go as it did in our universe. It seems that it was Surak and his followers who left Vulcan, to colonize elsewhere."

"So, no Romulans?" Chekov asked.

"Not as such," Spock answered.

"So, the Vulcan's here are Romulan  _like_?" McCoy asked.

"Based on the little information we have," Spock said reluctantly, "that could be true. With the advantage of not having had to leave and establish a colony on a new world, the Vulcan culture that rejected Surak and his teachings of peace and brotherhood would have had the time and energy to advance technologically. Giving them the ability to, apparently, quickly conquer those species they came across instead of offering a more neutral and welcoming First Contact."

"And Earth ees...?" Chekov asked.

"The news-vids are tightly controlled," Uhura said with a shake of her head. "But all indications are that Earth is under Vulcan command."

"That wouldn't have been much of a fight," McCoy said with a sigh. "The Vulcans probably just walked in and took over the place. At the time of _our_  First Contact, the Genetics War survivors had been set back a few hundred years and wouldn't have had much left to fight with, resources wise."

They all paused a moment to let that sink in.

_The Vulcan's had been more advanced than us for hundreds of years before we even met. And we were in no condition to fight invaders when they did arrive. The Vulcans could have walked all over us, and we couldn't have stopped them. We were damned lucky they were our first contact with alien life forms and not someone else._

_Doesn't quite seem fair that our peaceful Vulcan is gone, through no fault of its people, and the more militaristic one lives on. But I guess that's true for everyone, across all existence._

_If there are an infinite number of universes, sometimes we luck out with where we're born, sometimes we don't._

"What about the  _Enterprise_?" Sulu asked. "Do  _we_  have counterparts here?"

"If it exists, its location and crew list may be in some of the data-packs that we can't open," Uhura admitted. "Their encryption is _nothing_  like ours."

"Breaking that encryption may be impossible," Spock said with a raised eyebrow. "They  _are_ at war on two fronts."

"What we  _do_  know," Jim said, "is that the political structure is different. Which means we have to be careful not to assume there's too close a parallel, in spite of any similarities. Our usual friends may not be friendly at all. Avoiding anyone and everyone, when we can, would be our best bet. Uhura, keep collecting as much information as you can. With the existence of the rift, there could be, someday, a ship from this universe make its way to ours unless we find a way to close it. It may be information that saves us a lot of heartache in the future.

"So," McCoy began, "where do we go to get the dilithium, the foodstuff's and the biomass we need?"

Jim nodded toward Sulu.

"We don't know anything about the planets and cultures inside Tholian space," Sulu said, "so, the closest planet that we know has both dilithium and a farming community is Halkan."

"Have we heard of them?" Scotty asked. "Doesn't ring a bell."

"In our universe," Spock said, "The Halkans are a humanoid society, with the impressive history of total peace. They are not a member of the Federation but are considered friendly. While they have a very large presence of dilithium that they mine for their own use, they have refused all offers of the Federation trade for the crystals. Nor do they allow the Federation to mine it themselves. They believe that there is a possibility that the Federation could use the dilithium for acts of violence.

"They do not discourage visitors and are interested and eager to trade information, art and philosophical ideas with various species, but do not allow settlers. Nor are they interested in travel. Their agriculture is limited to being self-sufficient. They chose to live a very simplistic lifestyle."

"Do we have anything we can trade for food?" Chekov asked.

Jim shrugged. "Won't know until we get there and see what they might not have, that our Halkans do."

"The biomass won't have to be food based," McCoy added. "It could be a collection of any type of plant-based waste. A huge compost heap would do it, if they're humanoid enough to need the same vitamins and minerals we do. We'd need to check the local flora to make sure it had a good representation of what we need in our diets. Maybe even beam up schools of fish and plant life from an ocean. But for the actual foodstuffs for straight out eating, like any emergency rations, we'll need to be more careful. If they're missing vital elements, it may not work for us in the long run."

"Noted," Jim said.

"Captain?" Uhura said. "How do we approach them? They may be pacifists in this universe, or they may not. But if they're advanced enough for our Federation to have looked into trading with them, they will probably be advanced enough to notice we're not part of this reality's Starfleet."

"She's right," Scotty said. "We don't know what their ships look like. Nor even if they scan the same from a distance."

"Also, if they're a source of dilithium, they may be watched," Sulu added. "They could be a captive society."

"That's why we're going to sneak in," Jim said, giving them all a small smile. "The Halkans are two weeks away at our best speed. We have a  _cloaking device_. About time we learned how to use it."

 

 

***

 

Inquisitor Nyota Uhura strode toward her office at a leisurely pace. She  _enjoyed_ making the crew uncomfortable. She  _enjoyed_  the power her job and rank provided. What she hated was the long, slow times between any actual work. Tracing down groups planning and carrying out assassination attempts was all fine and dandy, but so much less satisfying in the long run than taking down planet-bound leaders, rulers, and politicians. Those assignments were  _fun,_  and she still had hopes of testing out the resolves of the Halkans.

Until then, she'd have to make do with terrorizing the crew.

Behind her, she could feel McCoy's impatience. There was just something about the Sub-Commander that got McCoy riled up. Which could be a good or bad thing, if McCoy got too impulsive. Impulsiveness was one of the man's more striking weaknesses.

 _I'll have to find something to keep him occupied,_ she thought.  _If his blood-lust becomes too uncontrollable, they'll remove him. Who knows if the next one will be so much fun, or so malleable?_

McCoy had been a find for her. His parents had been doctors and had doted on their one and only until they'd discovered him practicing a ' _pretend_ ' operation on the pet of the family next door, not able to understand the problem with doing so. It was  _fun._  While undergoing forced mental adjustment and counseling, at the tender age of ten, the Vulcan Social Authorities had pulled the budding young Interrogator into their fold.

Why waste a useful skill? They always needed sub-species to deal with other sub-species. In unpleasant ways. And they weren't shy about encouraging those skills they found useful. And if he was interested in being a doctor...

The Vulcan's appreciation for inborn skills was how she ended up an Inquisitor, after all. They'd seen in her a talent and a restlessness in her old life as a translator. She had unusual skills they could build on, and they had. For her, power and privilege were her drugs of choice. What she really craved. And how much more privileged could a human get in this universe than a pampered and protected Inquisitor?

It certainly kept life interesting. Meeting McCoy had expanded her horizons a bit more. The power he had over his subjects had become a savory addition that catered to her darker appetite.

She walked up to the door to their office, noticing the looks of trepidation and outright fear that the passing crew threw their direction.

It really was  _delicious!_

Once the door closed on them, leaving them in the small hallway flanked by various holding rooms with opaque windows, she continued down to the end and their office. Inside, it was decadent. Indulgent, with real leather furniture, Vulcan iron-wood desks, plush carpeting, and cream colored, fabric walls. The viewscreen out into space was large and was close to the front of the ship. One of the best offices on the VHC _Vakh Art'u_. And the best temperature, on the whole ship. She liked it bitterly cold, so in here, it was.

As soon as they were inside, McCoy grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back to his front, his hard cock grinding against her through the thick fabric of their Vulcan-designed uniform.

She barked a laugh, pulled his hands from her waist, and stepped away. He didn't try to hold her back. When she turned, his smile was randy, his eyebrows asking if she was interested.

She wasn't. Not at the moment.

"Don't even  _pretend_  that's for me," she said chidingly, but with a wink at him as she turned to her desk. As the superior, she had the biggest, best placed one, of course. "That's for that blond, blue-eyed man-child you want to get your bloody little hands on."

McCoy grinned evilly at her, his golden eye and scarring making that side of his face seem lopsided.

"He  _is_  a tasty morsel, isn't he?"

"Hardly a  _morsel_ , given he's the Sub-Commander," she said as she sat at her desk. She used the DNA scanner to bring up her monitor and keyboard. They were both physical models. She didn't like the idea of anyone seeing her screen from across the desk. Not even McCoy. "You know he's  _hands-off_  unless we can find a reason to bring him in."

"Or make something up," McCoy said happily, going to sit behind his own desk. He leaned back and put his feet up on the valuable wood, showing his normal contempt for anything Vulcan. "He's got a thing for  _you,_  though. Approach him  _right,_  and we could end up in a threesome if he thought that was the only way to get into  _your_  pants."

"Maybe," she said, leaving the impression of possibilities in her voice. "I have a feeling he's not all that comfortable with another male at his back."

"Or,  _in_  his backside?" McCoy asked with a chuckle.

"Especially that," she replied with a laugh. "You've seen his file, many times. He's careful to stay with partners smaller and weaker. Mostly female, a few smaller males once in a while. People he has rank over, and thus can control. Those who're timid and won't report a few bruises now and again."

"And no close male friends," McCoy said with a nod, which made his golden prothesis glint. "Doesn't sound like much fun in a circle jerk."

"I doubt you were either, my dear," she said distractedly, pulling Kirk's file for herself. "Some poor soul trusts you too much, you'd walk away with their penis, to enjoy at your leisure."

"True," McCoy said with a smirk. "If I thought I could get away with it. The Vulcans can be such prudes."

Uhura looked over Kirk's file again, checking to see if any new information had been added. McCoy hadn't been the only one who'd gone over it more than once. But her interest was more about his overall weakness', not just his sexual ones.

"I'm still wondering how he's going to make his ultimate move," she said, tapping the screen with a dark green nail. "Four years now and he's not made even a veiled threat against Captain Spock. He can't care for the Vulcan all  _that_  much."

McCoy, hands behind his head as he reclined back in his chair, shrugged.

"Maybe he's just careful."

"There's being careful, and there's being intimidated," Uhura said thoughtfully. "Do you think he actually respects our half-breed Captain? Fears him?"

"Or how the VHC will react," McCoy said. "Let me bring Kirk in, and I can find out which it is."

It was tempting. Not that they had anything to bring him in for questioning on. She might fudge her reasons for such a move if she had something close enough to give her a chance at getting away with it. If she actually found something useful, many things could be forgiven.

But this time, their true target was too high up, and too Vulcan, to make a misstep. Their orders were clear. Keep an eye on Spock. Find something on him. Discover why his enemies seem to disappear. Which was not actually as clear cut as it sounded.

The Vulcan High Command may not like Spock and wish he was gone. They may even really suspect him of subterfuge and political wrangling against them. But he was half Vulcan, and the Vulcans didn't put up with a sub-species mishandling one of their own. It was a pride thing, she was sure. But it could be deadly for her and McCoy if they pushed too hard, in the wrong direction.

If they caught Spock doing something he shouldn't, then all bets were off.

"No. Not unless and until we get something on him," She decided. "Even if he does respect Spock, that doesn't mean that they're working on anything subversive. And Kirk's not our main target anyway. It's Spock we're supposed to keep our eyes on, not Kirk."

McCoy sat up and leaned his elbows on his desk.

"You think this weird order to go easy on the Halkans is about more than just being soft?" McCoy asked curiously.

"Spock is right, in that it would be much faster to get the Halkans back to work than to bring in replacements. I have heard," she looked at McCoy, giving him a serious glare that told him he better not be repeating this, "that things aren't going well on the war front. A delay in resupplying usable dilithium could well be a disaster."

"Which war?" McCoy asked casually.

She was pretty sure he really didn't care.

"The Klingons have handed us our asses on a platter, more than once," She said with a frown. "And incursions into Surakkian space haven't made any headways. They may be pacifists, but they have a lot of friends who've worked together to keep us out."

"I thought they were the weak, decadent, black sheep cousins or something," McCoy said with little real interest. "Why not just go in and take care of them. I don't think the Klingons would interfere."

"You," Uhura said with a sigh, "will never make a good war campaign tactician. It's complicated."

"Do I  _look_  like I want to be a good war tactician?" McCoy humphed with disgust and walked over to the viewscreen. "Give me a good one, and I'll encourage him to be  _better_. That's  _my_ calling."

 _If he survived,_ Uhura thought.  _And if he was a Vulcan, you'd go a bit overboard and then... oops! One dead Vulcan. And you wouldn't even regret it when we were executed for harming one of their own._

"Leo,  _Love_ ," Uhura said with a sigh, "I know you're bored, but you're  _not_  thinking of doing something that will get both of us executed, are you?"

"It  _has_  been a very boring run. That last person who attempted to assassinate the Chief Engineer didn't last very long. And when I'm bored, I think a  _lot_."

McCoy turned to look at her, and a part of her wondered if he were medically scanning her with that eye. She wasn't in any pain for him to see, but he could be picking out her weak spots. It was one of the reasons he'd had the eye removed and the medical technology implanted, after all. The scarring and raw look he'd had sculpted around it was just his way of celebrating the addition. He liked the way it made people squirm.

_I guess now is a good time to throw him a bone._

She was, at times, overly fond and delightfully fearful of McCoy. Co-workers and sex toys could easily be replaced, but he had a special knack for what he did. And his joy in it was infectious. It was one reason why she didn't want to lose him, by having him indulge past the point of Vulcan tolerance.

It didn't hurt that he enjoyed being her lap dog, so she threw him treats to keep him obedient.

"I hear Biology has finished studying that pair of Elutrition shark-dogs," she said, giving him a smile. "They're to be put down. Maybe you can practice some of those medical skills on something a bit less sentient. I hear they have a high pain tolerance and a strong will to defend themselves."

McCoy smiled wickedly. "Not as much fun as people but has to be better than tribbles. Should pass the time pleasantly. I'll head over and give them a look."

She watched him appreciatively as he strode out of their office. He was pure eye-candy in a uniform. Even better nude. But his looks weren't the only thing that kept her attention.

 _One day, he's going to get so bored he comes after me,_ she thought with more than a little thrill of excitement.  _And when he does, he'll find me well prepared. I have a feeling he'd be disappointed if I weren't._

_Then, may the best Inquisitor win._

And she honestly enjoyed the fact she didn't know which one of them that would be.

The moment over with the closing of the door behind him, she turned back to her screen and pulled up the file on Captain Spock.

_Spock has something going on. I just know it. And when he makes his first mistake, it'll be his last._

_Now, if only these next two weeks would pass quickly._

Somehow, she knew Halkan was the answer. Maybe, in the next two weeks, she'd figure out what it was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

 ***

 Two weeks later

***

 

Jim Kirk stood in silence in front of the  _Defiant's_  gym viewport, watching the slow movement of starlight wander lazily past at warp one. In the dim light of the ruined gym, he was glad to be alone, so he could try to settle himself. The lights played differently through the warp bubble around them at this low speed. The movement of the stars slower and brighter. They didn't leave such long tails of light behind them. All, Jim knew, a trick of the light. If they could really pass stars as quickly as it seemed, they'd have gone by hundreds of habitable planets by now, when they were, in actuality, struggling to reach the nearest one.

It was four a.m. and he couldn't sleep. Today they would arrive at Halkan and see about getting the supplies they desperately needed. The Enterprise would be safely left tucked behind a moon of a dead planet in the system, and the invisible  _Defiant_  would make the rest of the trip. They were weak, short-staffed, wounded, and would have to go in slow and quiet. At least the tests of the cloaking device had gone well, although it put a huge strain on the cracked crystal. Scotty and Spock understood it well enough now that they could run it and baby the crystal at the same time.

They at least had that working in their favor.

Because, whatever happened, they couldn't afford for any larger force in this universe to realize they were here. Especially not the Vulcan High Command. From what they could tell from the reports and news-vids they were able to access, the Vulcans in this universe would tear them apart. These Vulcans hadn't embraced peace, logic, and an all-inclusive philosophy like their own had. All signs pointed to them being severely intelligent, xenophobic, proud and vicious reactionists who were no one to trifle with.

_We **have**  to get what we need. Even if we have to steal it. At least we don't have to take anything but biomass to survive. But we  **need**  those crystals to get home. _

The thought of stealing bothered Jim. A lot. Oh, the biomass could be recreated from most any plant matter. But not the crystals. At warp two, the trip from this area to the next place they thought  _might_  contain crystals in this universe was more than a year away. If their crystals even lasted that long. If they cracked further and became useless, it could take them more years than they had left of their lives to get anywhere safe. If he had no choice, he'd do what he had to do for his own people. To a point.

_What if what we do leaves the Halkan's at risk? Our Halkans refused to trade with the Federation for their crystals. They'd rather have died as a species than give over anything that could be used as a weapon against others. And if the Halkans here have the same beliefs, the same philosophy, will they even be open to trade with strangers? Or has the Vulcan High Command broken their spirits?_

Uhura believed the Halkan culture, as it was in this universe, was still intact. There was no occupying force, and only minimal security. Which, to Jim, meant that the VHC considered the Halkan's under control and no threat. But the VHC had wiped out whole planets before, replacing the indigenous population with those species they had already subjugated. So, the good news was that the Halkan culture was there. The bad news was that its continued existence was always in jeopardy and their arrival could trigger the planet's destruction.

What if his decisions set off something that brought down the wrath of the VHC?

_Are the lives of just over a thousand people worth the lives of a whole planet's population? Of course not._

_What if I'm not up to this? What if I fail?_

Just then the doors to the gym swished open, the brighter light in the corridor flooding the dim room. Jim turned, ready to leave the solitude to someone else when he relaxed, seeing Bones.

Bones stopped just inside the doors as they shut behind him. He looked around at the ravaged room. Equipment had been damaged, destroyed and ripped apart. The showers deconstructed, and the water elements taken apart. The small changing room's lockers long emptied of anything useful. The debris in this main room had been all shoved to the walls to open a space in the center. It felt abandoned and sad, but was one of the few rooms with an outside view that had held no bodies, for which Jim was grateful. This room, at least, held no ghosts with names he'd felt he should memorize, out of respect.

After looking around for a few minutes, with the lighting back on 'dim', Bones walked toward him, his hands clasped behind his back.

Jim turned back to the view outside.

"I really miss the Elf Shelf on the Enterprise," Bones said quietly as he came to stand beside Jim. A step closer to the viewport than he usually took. "The ceiling in here really  _is_ unnecessarily high."

"You're up early," Jim said regretfully. "Didn't mean to wake you when I left the tent."

Bones shrugged. "I'm not sure I was really asleep. It's a weird time. We've had enough time to digest all that's happened since we got to Tholian space, but not really enough to get settled in and feel comfortable. We all know this ship isn't home. That this universe isn't. And we all know that the next few days will decide our future. Everyone's restless."

Jim didn't say anything or look at Bones. After a moment, Bones sighed and moved behind Jim. Strong arms wrapped themselves around Jim, pulling him close to Bones's body. Bones rested his chin on Jim's shoulder.

"I know you're  _worried_ ," Bones said softly. "We all are. But this time we have choices. And there's only so much you can do with the situation we're in. No one's expecting you to pull off miracles, you know."

Jim sighed and relaxed back into Bones. " _I'm_  expecting it from myself. I'm getting the feeling that we may need a miracle to get home. I can't... Bones, I  _can't_  sacrifice a whole world for our own safety."

"Damn right, you can't," Bones huffed, leaning over to kiss the side of Jim's neck softly. "That's not the man I fell in love with. Not the man this crew volunteered to serve under. We'd die to protect a planet full of people. Doesn't make any sense to get them destroyed because of us."

"That might leave us with only one real choice."

"The Surakkians?" Bones asked, tightening his arms around Jim's middle. "If we could limp that way without the VHC catching us, maybe they'd take us in?"

"Either that, or head out further into the black," Jim admitted. "The VHC hasn't spread out any further than the Federation. We're still on the edge of known space. We pick a direction that isn't VHC, Surakkian, or Tholian, and just disappear. It may take a whole lifetime to get anywhere. But we'd be out of the way of these people and their wars for a while."

"Find a place to colonize," Bones said. "Start over. Use the two ships to stay in orbit, have a ton of kids and teach them everything we know. Hope they're prepared if the Vulcan's, or anyone else who's after land and resources, makes a play on them. I could think of worse futures. But Jim? You don't trust the Surakkians?"

"I don't  _know_  the Surakkian's," Jim said with a sigh. "We'd have to destroy the  _Defiant_. We can't know if this technology would change their fate, or if they're already using it. We can't let anyone here have it. We have no idea if their technology is the same as ours, further ahead, or behind. We could be changing their destiny by interfering."

"You're thinking of the  _Narada_ ," Bones said. "And what Nero and his people did. What our future might have been like with Vulcan still alive and kicking."

"Can't help but think about it," Jim admitted.

"But  _we're_  not here to hurt anyone," Bones said.

"We can do  _great_ harm, without meaning to," Jim replied. "And we don't really know the Surakkians. We just know the propaganda put out by the VHC. They could be just as bad. And what if they use us to backtrack to the rift? The winner of the wars here could work their way through to us. Why travel further out, away from home, when there's another universe to conquer just one rift journey away? So, we'd have to weed out a lot of our own database. And trust none of the crew to talk. Which will make it awkward to explain who we are."

"A Gordian knot of a problem," Bones agreed. He released his grip on Jim, took a few steps around Jim to face him. "One you're  _not_  going to unravel  _now_. Maybe you will, when we're down on Halkan. Maybe you won't have any decisions to make. You'll just  _know_ what to do. But you don't need to _think_  right now."

Bones's voice was soft and suggestive, with a tiny bit of that Georgian accent Jim adored. Bones looked at Jim with love. "I've  _missed_  you."

Bones put both hand's on Jim's arms. He smiled slightly at Jim and raised his voice. "Computer?  _Lock_  the exit door. Medical Override, CMO McCoy. Privacy screening  _on_. Only command and emergency communications through."

The computer acknowledged the order.

Bones pulled him in. His kiss was hot and demanding. Jim's arms slid automatically around Bones's waist, pulling him closer. Bones was hard against him, and Jim felt like it had been more than just a few weeks since they'd had any real, private time together.

It felt like it'd been months.

They kissed deeply, Jim's brain switching gears. Lust, desire and the need to connect once again took over. His hands found the tail of Bones's uniform shirt, and he pulled both top and undertunic up, urging Bones out of them. Bones soon had Jim shrugging off his own layered shirts, and when they pressed together again Jim filled his arms with Bones, kissing him again as their skin burned with the touch of the other. Pulling apart to breathe, Bones's hands found the waist of Jim's pants above his buttocks, and he pulled them closer together.

The hardness of Jim's trapped cock was being ground against Bones'. Both of them moaned with the pleasure of it. Jim ground back as Bones's hands slid under the waistband, reaching as far as he could to splay wide palms against Jim's ass. Digging his fingers in. Jim sighed at the touch, groaning when one well-aimed bit of friction between them sent a shiver of delight up Jim's cock and into his brain.

Panting now, feeling the air of the room waft coolly over his now heated body, Jim backed away, working at the fastening of Bones's pants. In a whirlwind of motion, they undressed each other, trying to stay connected in some way as new skin was exposed. Supporting each other up as boots were toed off and underwear flung aside. Soon, they were both naked, with their full erections trapped between them.

Jim's universe narrowed down to the two of them. Bones, always strong and protective, now looked predatory and dangerous. Bones's eyes grew heavily lidded, his smile mischievous and lustful, the red flush of his desire across those high cheekbones, down his neck, and across his chest. All telling Jim the truth of Bones's need for him.

As Jim's own body was lit with red patches of desire.

" _So_  beautiful," Bones said with a sigh down Jim's neck. His breath trailed further down Jim's neck just seconds before the even hotter mouth sucked in a bit of skin. Teeth nipped, and the shock made Jim's cock throb in reply.

"Southern  _charmer_ ," Jim said huskily, exposing more of his neck to Bones's ministration. "You can cure people of  _anything_  with that voice."

"Only for you," Bones said, nipping Jim's shoulder as he reached between them to take Jim's aching cock. "This voice is  _only_  for you."

Jim groaned and rubbed his cock into Bones's palm, reaching one arm around Bones's shoulder and the other behind his head. Jim sunk his fingers into the soft tufts of hair at the back of Bones's head. He held his head in place for a moment, as Bones continued sucking and nibbling a sensitive line across Jim's shoulder. Jim leaned down, burying his nose in the thick, black hair. Bones smelled earthy, like sex and lust and healthy male. Then, when reaching the upper part of Jim's arm, Bones pulled back.

"Sit," Bones ordered, his randy smile bringing out his dimples.

Jim did, unable to take his eyes off of Bones as he did so. Bones stood standing, watching Jim hungrily. The sight of Bones's cock hard against his body made Jim want to taste it.

"Lean back. Spread 'em."

Jim leaned back on his forearms, the carpet a soft covering over hard surface under him. He spread his legs, bringing his knees up, exposing himself. His cock, swollen and sensitive, pulsed with the rhythm of his thumping heart. His balls were pulled up close, separated by the blood-filled, thick shaft of his cock where it merged into his body. He felt exposed in the large room, the play of air circulation different here than elsewhere. He almost felt on public display, even with no one around them.

Bones approached, getting down on his hands and knees between Jim's legs. It was all Jim could do not to wrap his legs around Bones. Bones turned his head and started kissing and nibbling a hot, wet line from his left knee and up the tender inner side of his thigh toward his crotch.

Jim's brain swam in the sensations, every nibble, kiss and lick sending spikes up to his brain that broke his thoughts up like a storm. He threw his head back, and lost his fight to keep himself propped up, falling to lie back on the carpet as Bones moved agonizingly slow up one leg, only to pause at his inner thigh to back up and start at the other knee, to work his way in a second time.

Jim lay on the carpet, eyes on the too-high ceiling, unable to really think. Only feel... feel... feel... and Bones's mouth made its way to his cock for the second time.

This time, when Bones's hot mouth descended on the shaft and nibbled to the tip of his glans, Jim knew he was keening with need, and didn't care. His whole body was on fire and demanding, accentuated by the cooler air around him. His fingers were looking to dig themselves into the short carpet, and his heart was thudding as Bones took Jim into his mouth.

Jim moaned, and tried to thrust, but Bones's hands were on Jim's pelvis, holding him in place. His hands splayed wide, knowing where all of Jim's bones were, his nerves, vessels and pressure points. Playing Jim like a beloved toy.

Making Jim's world narrow down to his own cock, the hot, tight cavern, and the careful roughness that was his caressing tongue.

Jim rode the sensations, mindless, ageless, and timeless as the sensations build up to an unbearable level.

And when Jim came, only giving Bones a gasp in warning, the electrical explosion made his body clench and strain to complete the process. Bones pulled off carefully but quickly, leaving Jim's internal pulses of ejaculation a beautiful torture. He climaxed several times, emptying himself over his own torso. Cum splashed, pooled and started to run down his chest.

Bones, on his knees, moved closer to and over Jim. Braced with one hand on the floor near Jim's torso, he took Jim's hand in his other, placing Jim's palm on the cum near his sternum. Jim took the hint, and as Bones moved up between Jim's legs and braced himself, Jim covered both palms with his own cum and reached down to cover Bones's cock.

Bones grunted happily, and they adjusted themselves, so Bones could thrust into Jim's tightened fists. Bones's face was flushed bright red, his eyes hooded. He kept them open and on Jim, the hazel flashing as Bones worked out his lust. Jim flexed his hands, his fingers, so that every thrust Bones made caressed a different part of Bones's cock. Careful of his wedding ring, Jim knew how to hold him, when to tighten and when to soften his grip on Bones. He knew his natural rhythms, how he liked to thrust, and his sensitive spots. Jim knew exactly what it took to make the man climax.

Jim made him work for it. He waited until Bones's eyes unfocused and his head pull back as every bit of his attention switched to his cock and his thrusting into Jim's talented hands. Waited until he heard Bones's grunts come deep from his chest. He even waited until the start of the needy, begging whine came that told Jim how far lost Bones was. Saw Bones strain with it. Felt his limbs tremble.

Then, with one slick twist of his right hand on an up-stroke, and the well-placed pad of Jim's thumb down Bones's frenulum, Bones froze, gulped, clenched and came over Jim's torso.

Jim held him carefully as he climaxed again and again, enjoying the hard pulse of Bones's cock in his hands.

_I can destroy him like this. Rebuild him over and over. Then destroy him again._

_Just like he can destroy me._

_The 'little death', in each other's arms. That's how I want to leave my life, when it comes._

_Together, with him._

Bones collapsed on top of him and Jim released him. Jim could feel Bones's wild heartbeat as he wrapped his arms around him, and Bones struggled to gain back his breath.

Jim rolled him to their sides, draping his top leg over Bones.

For a few minutes they just lay there, their bodies calming down, holding each other.

They lay there for a while, not talking. When they finally did part, Jim didn't look at the view and Bones didn't grouse about the hard floor under them. Neither complained about being sticky or having to put their clothes back on over the mess they'd made. Or commented when they wiped their hands on the dark undershirts where it wouldn't show under their colored uniform tunics. Or spoke about the fact they both hoped that there wasn't too much corridor traffic on the way back to the Galley, and the working showers.

Neither had a comb, and the 'windswept' look on a ship was always a tell-tale sign of extra-curricular activities.

With a smile, Jim gave Bones's usual wild style another ruffle with both hands to be sure he'd look the part. Bones pulled back and smirked at him, knowing exactly what Jim was doing.

At the gym door, they stopped and kissed. Deep and slow. Then they separated before the door opened and walked back into the open corridor like they'd done a hundred times before. Separate, but always together.

It was still early morning, but neither would go back to sleep. There was work to do.

_I'll get us **all** home, so  **everyone**  can be with those they love. _

_I **can't**  fail them. So, I  **won't**. _

He knew it wasn't that simple. It never was. He did put his hand on Bones's shoulder as they walked and felt grateful that he could do so.

The time was past for questioning his options.

There was only choosing the best one, when it came time to do so.

Or make even better ones.

He was good at that.

 

***

  

Uhura strode slowly down the  _Defiant's_  corridor. With almost an hour before she had to meet the others at the transporter, she was enjoying the swish of the long, flowing blue Halkan skirt and the feel of the brown, hooded cloak on her shoulders. The weight down her back offset by the heavy bun at the nape of her neck. She wore comfortable shoes, hose and linen underclothing, a wide gold belt and a small necklace of green beads. There was also the small blue spot drawn in the middle of her forehead, like the ones the Halkans adapted in an adulthood ceremony, pledging themselves to a future of peace and the idea of universal brotherhood.

So far, the information on the Halkans in this universe seemed to match theirs. A blessing. Like most humanoid species, the Halkans varied greatly in looks and skin coloring. None of the team would seem unusual. Those from the  _Defiant_  had hope that they could go in and find the supplies they needed for trade, without resorting to theft.

_It feels strange to think of myself as being from the Defiant. I'll be glad to finally get home when this is all over. My cabin there may not be big, but it's all the better in that it's my own._

It had taken them two weeks at slow warp to arrive at the Halkan homeworld. They didn't dare go any faster and further damage the fractured crystals. On the way, they'd been able to do more eavesdropping on the unsecured chatter that echoed through subspace. Bits and pieces of information they'd collected on unsecured channels, including news-vids, had allowed them to learn more about this universe. Most of it was the same, when it came to homeworld and species. The Klingons seem to be the same. Maybe with different players and rulers, but basically the same people. Some differed greatly. Like the Vulcans.

_I hope we don't have to stay. At least, if we have to, we might have a place we can go. If the Surakkian Union really follows the same teachings as Spock's Surak, we may be welcome there. Either that or head out into the black and not plan to come back to this area. Set up our own colony. Start over. And we have a bit of technology the others don't seem to have. That could give us a way to protect ourselves if they ever do find us._

And they were testing out the technology now. In order to keep anyone from discovering them, the  _Defiant_  had left the  _Enterprise_ , under Sulu's command, behind the moon of a dead planet further out in the same system. After several stressful trials, they'd found the cloaking-device worked well in normal space. So, the  _Defiant_  had made the last leg of the trip on her own, safely invisible to sensors. They planned to get what they needed to resupply, then make their way back to the  _Enterprise_  and back to the rift and the bit of filament that could lead them home. Hopefully, with no one ever realizing they were here.

But no one was comfortable with it. Neither with the cloaking technology nor the idea that if the Federation had it, so would others. Eventually, if they didn't already. She wasn't sure it was the kind of stealth they were ready to guard against. She wasn't sure it was the kind of stealth they could use morally. Look at where the  _Defiant_  had been already.

She slowed as the lights in the corridor dimmed a bit as she drew closer to her destination. The few crewmen passing by did so slowly, with small nods toward the Rec Room door. She came to a stop in front of the door, and the Starfleet flag draped across it. Behind it was the cold of deep space and the bodies of the lost crew they'd never had the chance to save. Those they'd found while in the rift and the last few they'd found after their escape, barricaded in closets and storage rooms. Most of those had been suicide. Jim had discussed with his team what to do with the dead. Should they leave them be? Move them to the  _Enterprise_  as it stayed at a safe distance, in hiding behind the neighboring planet's moon?

It'd finally been decided to leave them with the ship, as they were. If both ships made it home, then there was no need to disturb them. If worse came to worst, and Jim ordered the  _Enterprise_  destroyed, then they would all be together to make the last run for home.

_Getting them home is the least we can do, she_ thought.  _They did their best and gave their all. They can rest with family for now._

She ignored the others as they passed until she realized that someone was standing just behind her shoulder.

"Makes you think, doesn't it?" McCoy asked softly.

She glanced at him and found him studying the door. He was dressed all in browns, in leggings and a simple, trimmed tunic. He also had a hooded cloak to hide his face. His hair was plastered close to his skull, away from his face and the blue dot centered carefully on his forehead. He had a small bag belted around his waist she knew would have his medical equipment. Around his neck was a small silver chain with the charm signifying the Halkan symbol for peace. It contained, as did one of her beads, a small translator. He would be able to understand those around him, in their native language. They didn't want to stand out by using Standard, in case that had any unwelcome connotations. If he used his hood and kept his face down or turned away, those around him may not notice his words didn't match his lip movement. Hers was turned off for now. She would be their spokesman for whatever goods they could find to trade for.

"Makes you think about who they were. Why they served," he continued. "Did you know any of them?"

"No," Uhura shook her head. "I checked. You knew someone?"

"Yeah," McCoy said sadly. "One of the head Doctors was someone I graduated Medical school with. Didn't know her well but studied with her in a group a few times. She was nice. Really smart. Had a huge family, I think. Lots of brothers and sisters. Lost contact with her after I graduated. Would have been nice to talk to her again. She's got a lot of family back home to miss her. I hope we can at least bring her back to them."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too." McCoy sighed. "I'm still having trouble with the memory..."

Uhura knew what he was talking about. It was a blessing that by the time she'd come on the  _Defiant_  to help crew the ship, there were no bodies in the corridors or on the Bridge for her to run across. She'd seen glimpses of them, over Sulu's shoulder as he watched Chekov's drone recordings. Sulu had done so in the  _Enterprise_ s' Ready Room rather than on the Bridge's viewscreen. But all the Bridge crew had seen the first views, while Kirk and his team inspected the ship. That had been enough to fuel her own nightmares. She had heard what the MedBay had been like. Word like that got around. It tore at her that McCoy had had to see that and had to attend to the removal of the victims to the make-shift morgue.

_He works so hard to keep all of us safe and well. He's so kind. To think that a medic could do what I heard was done... I know it's been eating at him. When he's had a moment to think._

_Maybe it's been best those moments for us have been few and far between these last two weeks._

_And he has Jim to keep him safe at night. Even if they don't have the privacy they need at the moment. None of us has that._

And yet, it was comforting to be bunking together. To have others around when they were at their lowest. Friends just outside the tent walls who could interrupt those nightmares with comforting words. There had been spare, empty rooms opened up, for those who were more comfortable in private. Some species didn't do well in a group. But a ship didn't have many empty, unassigned beds and to go through the victim's rooms and pack them up... most didn't have any desire to do that.

Jim and Len had stayed with the rest, in the community of tents. She knew they needed the comfort more than the privacy.

"If I can help, in any way," She said, giving him a small smile, "just ask. You  _know_  that."

"I know," he said with a grateful, but sad smile. He reached out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "I will. I just... wish it had never happened. I'm glad it didn't have to happen to us. And I want to go home. But, honestly, not enough to know if I want to chance getting stuck in that rift again. Turning into what they turned into. End up doing what they did."

"I don't believe that could happen," she said honestly. "Not to you."

" _None_ of us are immune to our evil nature," he said with a sigh. "None of it was their fault. They didn't deserve that."

"No, they didn't. I feel so bad," Uhura said, letting go of McCoy's hand and walking up to the door to gently touch the flag. "For all of them. I'm glad we can treat them with respect. And, hopefully, take them home."

"I think if I die again..." McCoy said, then stopped and shook his head. " _When_  I die again, I'd rather die as myself. Fully aware. Sane. It just makes it feel even worse, when you know they weren't themselves when they passed. I think it makes it easier when you know it's happening, so you can make peace with it and not be afraid."

"The voice of experience," She said with a sad smile as she turned to look at him. "Do you think we move on after death?"

McCoy shrugged. "I don't know. Neither does Jim, by the way. But we both still _feel_ like there's something more. Either way, whatever happens when we die is what's  _supposed_  to happen. How we  _fit_  into this existence. That's really all we  _can_  know at this point. Give us a few million years. Maybe our descendants will evolve enough to find some answers."

They were both quiet for a few moments.

"How is Spock handling this new universe thing?" McCoy asked curiously. "That he may have another counterpart?"

"You mean, it seems to be in his DNA to be crossing from one universe to another?" She asked with a small smile. "That there's probably another Spock in this universe, unaware that we may be here to alter  _their_  future? He's okay with it. The other Spock is not him, and he's not the Spock from this universe. I think it's we humans who tend to get freaked out over the multiple and branching universe theories. We take the differences too personally, worried that we're living our lives in the wrong way and someone else is doing it right. What do you think another Leonard McCoy is doing in  _this_ universe?"

McCoy shrugged again. "If he's not a doctor, I don't know what else he could be. Wasn't much of a choice for me. Knew what I was going to be since I was little. He could be a farmer on Earth, with a ton of kids and farm animals around him. Or the ruler of a small world. No clue. And your counterpart?"

Uhura chuckled. "Same here. Languages and travel. Exploration. This life suits me, until it's time to move on. I have no idea what my counterpart might be like."

McCoy turned to continue down the corridor, toward the lift. She followed.

"If we're lucky, we'll be on our way home soon and won't have a chance to find out," he said. He smiled and offered her his arm.

She smiled back and took it. It felt like a very Halkanian thing to do.

"I hope so," she said. "Some things are better left unknown."

They were the first two to the transporter. Scotty was there, fiddling with the settings.

Beside her, McCoy suddenly looked concerned.

"Scotty, are you sure that we won't be spotted by the Halkans when the cloaking device is turned off?" McCoy asked.

"Scanners say that they're not quite as advanced as our Halkans," Scotty said with a frown. "And we're away from the small bit 'o traffic they have going on in orbit. So, for the few minutes, the  _Defiant_  is uncloaked, we should be fine."

"You sure that the device isn't going to go fritz on us?" McCoy said, looking unconvinced. "Being  _invisible_? It  _still_  gives me the willies."

Scotty looked up and shook his head.

"Honestly, Doctor? I can nae say for sure. There's just something about it... well, it's just not  _natural_. This old girl may have done fine until she got caught in that rift, but I don't like how it's connected to the main power couplings, how the software is written through it, how it pulls power and the drain on the crystals. I just get the feeling that we're waitin' for the other shoe to drop, so to speak."

Suddenly Uhura felt concerned as well. "But so far, everything's tested out well, hasn't it?"

"Aye. So far."

Just then the door slid open and Jim, Chekov, and Spock strode in. Spock was in uniform, but Kirk and Chekov were in Halkan attire. The simple cloaks, tunics, and footwear were a close match to McCoy's. Kirk's white stripe was dyed to match the rest of his hair. They both had the small, blue Halkan dot on their foreheads and a necklace with a translator charm. Jim had a cross-shoulder bag, with what amounted to trade trinkets.

"Ah, you're here," Jim said, nodding at them. "Good. We should be over the correct spot in a few minutes for beam down."

"It means you're gonna have to walk a bit," Scotty said.

"Can't be helped," Jim said with a shrug. "The cloud cover will help, but we can't be too close to their main city when you turn off the cloaking device. And we don't know what kind of identification they use for public transport."

"We'll be over your chosen destination in a couple of minutes," Scotty warned.

"Okay, let's get set," Jim said, looking at Spock. "Just remember your orders, Spock, if we should get unexpected company."

"We are to keep cover and shadow the new arrival on the other side of the planet," Spock said. "Communications silent."

"At least until you know, one way or the other, if their technology can see you or not," Jim said grimly. "They could _all_  have cloaking devices and ways to see through them, for all we know."

"Understood."

"We're ready," Scotty announced.

Uhura, McCoy, Chekov, and Jim each stood on a pad.

"Shutting down the cloaking device," Scotty said.

Only seconds later Uhura felt the familiar tingle of the transporter.

In the blink of an eye, she and the others were standing on the side of a wide, even path. The sun shone down, whiter than the Earth's sun was, but the forest on one side and the green of growing crops on the other side seemed familiar. Like they did on so many worlds.

Jim took out his comm and took a reading. Then nodded toward their left.

"Town's that way, as well as the dilithium mine," Jim said. "Let's go."

 

***

 

Captain Spock strode from the Bridge to his quarters, at an even, measured pace. Both of his bodyguards were with him, eyes on the crew for any signs of danger. But Spock didn't look at them, nor acknowledge when they all stood at attention as he passed. Decorum and discipline were to be kept at all times. If he acknowledged them, then they existed. And if they existed, their hate and contempt for him would show. Humans, even at attention, weren't known for their facial subtlety.

_Or, I am more prone to seeing it and interpreting it than others. The burden of having a human mother. Even at her most disciplined, I could tell what she was feeling._

He ended that thought quickly. He tried not to think of his mother since her death. It brought on feelings that, even if suppressed, were unseemly for a Vulcan male. He was always suspicious that his guards might sense that weakness in him. He understood quite clearly that his guards were not solely there for his protection. They were his jailers. His minders. The spies the Vulcan High Command kept on him.

All to pay for the political sin of his father. A Vulcan scientist studying the social and biological cycles of Terran Humans, he'd thought the  _'social experiment'_  of siring a half-human offspring would be an acceptable indulgence. Spock was sure that if he had been discovered before birth, his mother would have suffered an ' _unfortunate_ ' accident. Whatever mental and moral weakness' his father suffered, he'd at least been aware enough of the climate of his own culture to have hidden his son until it was clear he had been born healthy. If not accepted.

And Spock was also well aware that his proficiency in the sciences was an acute embarrassment to the Vulcan High Command. It's one thing to ignore the mixed-blood child if he was of no practical use. It was another to have to admit that such a cross-breeding could produce someone well qualified for the Vulcan Science Academy. Someone they would not, could not, ever allow to attend.

So, he was given a military education and placed as Captain of a Starship. A Human filled one at that. Where the Humans could never achieve the rank of Captain except at his death, of course.

Vulcans, by nature, were not inclined to humor. Yet Spock knew they would appreciate the irony of being dispatched by the lower race that tainted him. Which was just one reason why Spock did not trust his guards to actually act in his defense. He was under no illusions that they took pride in their service, either to him or to this ship. And soon, he suspected it would all come to a head. And he, himself, had run out of time. Unbonded, forbidden to find a pure Vulcan mate, his own Pon Farr was approaching. He could feel it in the changes in his mind, new emotions that he even now had to focus on hiding. He knew that when it took his sanity, in four or five years at the most, his guards would step in, finally having the excuse to rid the universe of him. Until then, the High Command could wait.

Coming upon his private quarters, Spock entered the outer chamber. Designed to add a buffer of protection in case the Captain's cabins were assaulted, the outer chamber was also the limit of the guard's presence. They were never allowed inside a Vulcan Captain's private sanctum. Something Spock counted on.

"Saymon," Spock began, turning to the older guard. True to his training, Saymon did not allow his dislike of him to show. "You have heard any new rumblings amongst the crew?"

"No, Captain," Saymon said with a tilt of his head. "All seems to be quiet."

"Very well," Spock replied, turning his back on the guard. "As you were."

_He was untruthful, Spock_ thought as he strode through his inner chamber.  _Word is spreading that the war on the Klingon front is not going well for us. There is a new fleet of ships ready to be commissioned. If any of these Human officers wish to take a Captaincy on them, they will need to advance, soon._

His rooms were completely Vulcan, with the reds, coppers, and russets that dominated the homeworld. It was also sparse, reflecting his minimalistic tastes, and divided into small rooms. The main room held only a few meditative objects of ancient origins and a meditation mat. The bed nook and refresher, kitchen and small office were kept apart from each other. Separate. Just as he kept various parts of his life separate from each other.

He walked through the meditation room into the bed nook. Even with two doors between him and his guards, he locked the nook door behind him.

This room was as bare as the others. The bed was narrow and hard and the walls unadorned past the rugged, diagonal, welded plates favored by the Vulcan ruling class. He knew no one had been here in his absence, seeing none of the hidden security fields tripped. Only he knew where they were.

So far, so good.

He walked up to a side wall and up to the panel that adorned it. He touched the rivets in a pattern, then pressed a spot with his thumb. The hidden system recognized him, and the panel quietly slid aside, revealing the controls for the Tantalus Field. There was a small screen, some dials, and buttons. But what drew the eye was the button at the top. Colored a bright red, Spock knew it was not the red of safety, but the red of human blood. Of danger.

The red button that removed his enemies.

_Their downfall will be of their own making, Spock_ mused, thinking of the Vulcan High Command.  _To suppress a people because they are believed to be inferior, to discount their actions and their worth, can only lead to an uprising. And the belief that the lower races can have nothing to add to their knowledge, their technology, or their power, will lead them to miss such devices as this._

The Tantalus Field was a science unknown to him, or anyone else that he could discover. Found on a ship smuggling items across the Neutral Zone, the Tellurite piloting the ship had offered it to Spock, in private, in exchange for his life. Spock had taken the device, allowed the pilot to escape while destroying the ship, as per the High Command's policy. Spock had managed, over a few careful months, to install it in his own quarters. Never quite sure if the smuggler had told him the truth and never daring to open its sealed case and possibly destroying it.

He had, finally, given in to hope, remembering his Mother's foolish promise that someday, miracles would come his way. Only to find out that it actually worked.

He reached for the controls, focusing on the one person on the ship he was interested in.

A view of Sub-Commander Kirk came on-line. The human was eating in the officer's mess by himself, his guards left at the entrance. A PADD in front of him. With their arrival at the Halkan homeworld only hours away, Spock knew the Sub-Commander would be going over information on the society.

Spock had held the Human's life in his hands since he'd been assigned. One touch of the red button while Kirk was on the screen and he would disappear. Whether he was destroyed, thrown back into time, or into another universe altogether, Spock did not know. All he did know was that Kirk would be gone and no trace of him found.

But using the device came with dangers. Using it on the ship was asking for sudden questioning by the Inquisitors, unless the disappearance could be blamed on an assassination attempt and a phaser found on the loose. Handy, to have someone else take the blame. He also had to know the person he wanted to remove, even if it was from a distance. And he had to be within orbit, or close enough to be considered such. Which meant that he'd had to be circumspect and judicial in its use.

The first he had chosen to ' _disappear'_  had been the Vulcan healers who'd not seen any point in curing his mother's sudden illness. Human's aged so quickly, after all. And they bred so fast. There had been other Vulcans who needed their attention. The Human healers he had spared. They had done their best with second-class equipment and education. The others had been enemies of his father.

Sarek had not been a proper father to him, but Spock had not wished him ill. Now, with Sarek gone as well, Spock could put plans into play.

And some of those plans included Sub-Commander Kirk.

But not at this moment.

Spock closed the cover on the device, hiding it once again.

Soon, it could prove its usefulness once more.

 

***

 

_Something's wrong,_ McCoy thought as he watched the natives around him, thankful for his hood.  _These people are acting like they're under siege. They're shell-shocked. Whatever happened to them, it's not been that long ago. There may not be Vulcans here, or in orbit, but you can tell that occupation isn't far from these people's minds._

The four of them had actually been able to hitch a ride on one of the Halkan's anti-grav vehicles headed for the city. The older man had stopped the large, moving platform stacked full of produce and had waved them onto the back of the vehicle with him. The vehicle was apparently pre-programmed, and there were few controls the older man needed to attend to. Other than introducing himself as Lanrack and asking their destination, the older man had seemed content to sit with them in silence. Uhura tried to get him to chat, but he just shrugged, with no interest in her questions. When Jim had tried to talk to him about the mine, he'd glanced at him fearfully and told Jim he'd drop him off at the road to the mine. But then he'd clammed up and would say no more.

Jim and Chekov had been dropped off at a crossroads, where they'd agree to meet at the end of the day. The trip into the city's outskirts hadn't taken much longer.

Seeing that they fit in with their hoods up, it did give McCoy and Uhura a chance to study the market and the people unnoticed. He and Uhura had been walking around in the farmer's market for hours now. McCoy had expected a large area and a crowd, but it was clear that the Halkan people didn't even feel comfortable going out to buy their food. They kept to small groups. Children kept close. Most had their hoods up and didn't look up as they walked from stall to stall. Even the stalls seemed far apart and not well stocked. McCoy knew this could be the offseason for a lot of the produce, but there just seemed to be a tension in the air that went beyond food availability.

Holding his scanner under his cloak, he was checking the produce as they walked around the mostly empty stalls. What produce was there looked damaged or sickly and those buying seemed to be picking through the offerings. McCoy was cataloging the produce and their food value for comparison to their records of the Halkan diet and produce in their universe. There was no use bargaining for produce that the crew couldn't eat, or that they couldn't use in the biomass. So far, there were several items they could use in bulk. But there was more they needed.

"They're using some sort of electronic chip for payment," Uhura whispered to him, her hood covering her face. "Pre-coded. We'll need to see if we can get a scan of them, to see if we can duplicate them."

"We may not be able to," McCoy said softly, watching those around him. He didn't want anyone coming too close and realizing they were speaking Standard and not Halkan. He had a feeling that anything off-world would startle them into taking too close a look. "If everything's encrypted, it may take too long to crack. We need to be able to do some actual bartering for goods, rather than use their electronic system. But I don't see anything here that suggests that there's anyone open to that."

"If we can even find anything they need," Uhura said.

"There were some areas we passed by that had large compost piles. We could take a little from each one, by transporter," McCoy said. "I hate to just  _take_  anything. But it'd be safer than trying to transport anything out of their oceans. They're pretty deep."

There was a sudden vibration as his comm went off in his case. Uhura looked up at him. Hers must have gone off too. They moved to a secluded area beside a covered and empty stall.

"McCoy here," he answered quietly, with his back turned to the thoroughfare.

"There is a Starfleet ship on its way in," Spock said gravely. "It's broadcasting as the  _VHC Vakh Art'u_. The Vulcan translation of ' _Enterprise'_. They are coming in at full warp and will arrive within the hour. We are taking defensive measures. We can not contact the Captain nor Chekov. Are they with you?"

"No, they're probably inside the mine by now," McCoy replied. "We're supposed to meet later."

"We will be out of range until we are sure that we can approach unseen," Spock said. "You must go to ground, stay out of sight and do not draw attention to yourselves. This is a most dangerous situation."

"Wait, you need this," McCoy said, pulling out his scanner and connecting it to his comm. "I'm sending up everything on Halkan we need to build two good biomass' and what produce we can eat. If you need to grab and go,  _that's_  what you grab."

"Understood," Spock said tightly. "Information received. Spock out."

"Of all the  _damned_  luck!" McCoy groused under his breath, looking around to make sure no one was watching. "What's the odds of it being the  _Enterprise_?"

"Apparently, too good to call," she said with a sigh. "We'll need to go silent as well and not try to call the Captain or Chekov. Our comm signals may throw up a red flag when their ship gets here, and we share the same frequencies. If they're a ship of war and these people their subjects, then we can't expect them to miss any bases when it comes to anyone out of place."

"Let's just hope we can find them and warn them. Fast," McCoy said. He started walking toward the road they'd come in on, heading for the rendezvous point.

_Damn it!_ McCoy thought as they worked their way through the stalls and to the main road out.  _Why didn't Jim and Chekov pick up?_

_Did something already go wrong on their end?_

They hadn't gotten very far down the road when a line of what was clearly off-world security men came up the other way, turning around those who were trying to leave town. A few held weapons, but the leader left his holstered. Clearly, he didn't expect much of a fight, or resistance. When he yelled out at the confused people, it was in Standard.

"Your attendance at the main square is  _required_ ," the leader said, looking bored and a bit put out. " _Everyone_  will gather at the main square. Let's do so now. Keep it moving."

As the line of soldiers, or guards, drew near, McCoy heard the leader issue more orders to the others. "Get the stalls shut down. They want the main courtyard full. No one in or out of the city."

McCoy and Uhura turned and headed back to the city, following the growing, confused and frightened crowd.

"We were too  _slow_ ," McCoy grumbled under his breath to Uhura, who'd taken his arm, so they wouldn't be separated.

"Preparing for the  _Vakh Art'u_  to arrive," Uhura said with a frown. "This doesn't look good. Why round up an audience?"

"Probably something nasty, by the way this crowd is reacting," McCoy said, watching the people around him from under his hood. "And we get a front row seat to it."

"Make sure you record it," Uhura said quietly, "And set the scanner to upload automatically next time the  _Defiant_  or the  _Enterprise_  pings it."

_Because if we don't make it back, then at least they'll know what happened._

He nodded and as they walked among the quiet, scared crowd, set the scanner to do just that.

 

***

 

Sub-Commander Kirk stood at ease in the transporter room, next to the two Inquisitors, with Hendorff at attention at the door. Captain Spock would arrive soon, and he didn't want to be caught slouching.

Inquisitor Uhura smiled at him, her eyes raking him over as she walked up to him.

"You are such a puppy," she said with a laugh, her eyes hard. "So eager to please. Do you get on your back and offer him your tummy when we're not looking?"

McCoy was leaning against the transporter console with one hip, forcing the technician to have to work to ignore him. He chuckled, looking Kirk up and down appreciatively. "With his tail wagging and his cock hard, I'll bet."

Kirk ignored McCoy, meeting Uhura's eyes and giving her a small smile.

"I may be a dog," he said casually, "but  _this_ dog has lived long enough to be a  _Sub-Commander_. And like all dogs, I have teeth."

Uhura smirked at him, turning to walk toward McCoy. Kirk admired her with his eyes. McCoy caught the look and smirked at him.

"It would be  _interesting_ ," Uhura continued, her back to him, "to see just who all died along the way for you to achieve such a high rank. You must have had quite a list to get you this far, for a non-Vulcan."

"People die," Kirk said, with an unconcerned shrug. "We're at war. If you don't die long enough, your day will come."

"Could be fun, though, to see how long you could last, under pressure," Uhura said, turning toward him with a smile. She walked over to McCoy, who looked down at her with a smile and a raised eyebrow. She put her hand on McCoy's arm, looking up at him. "I know at least one of us would love to see just what you're made of. And the other would love to watch the meltdown."

McCoy grinned at her.

_God, you two need to stay in your room if you can't control yourself, Kirk_ thought with a mental leer.  _Spock ever gives me a chance at you two, I know which one I can make meltdown. And which I can just take down._

Spock and his guards suddenly entered the room, and Jim was glad he'd kept his thoughts off his face. The two Inquisitors moved to stand at attention, but not as fast as they should.

"Sub-Commander," Spock began, not even glancing at the two Inquisitors. His eyes on Kirk were hard. "You have gone over your orders, I assume? You are aware, there is no leeway in them?"

"I understand," Kirk replied, working to keep the frustration off of his face. "I am to address the new Council and make a speech to the people. We're here to see about the late shipments and the lack of quality that the Vulcan High Command expects of Halkan. Make it clear that we expect them to step up."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could also see hints of frustration on Uhura and McCoy's face. Uhura cleared her throat and took a step forward, keeping her eyes ahead.

Spock saw the movement and nodded at her. "You may speak."

"Captain," Uhura began, her face schooled into blankness. "That is  _not_  the usual protocol--"

"It  _is_ , in this situation, Inquisitor," Spock said, his voice clipped. "As the Captain, I decide what is protocol. And what is not."

Kirk worked at not lifting an eyebrow in shock. Captains were usually more... circumspect with the Inquisitors.

Uhura's eyes narrowed, but she nodded at Spock. "Understood, Captain."

"Captain. We are above the main city," the transporter technician announced.

"Good. I expect you three to get results.  _My_  way."

Spock turned and left the transporter room, his guards trailing behind him.

 

 

***

 

 

Uhura and McCoy gently jostled for elbow room as they were packed into the center city plaza with the rest of the Halkan citizens.

The crowd at the market had been herded down several long streets, past closed shops and into a large central area by non-citizen guards behind them. Opposite a large dais in the center of an even larger park was an ornate building that had seen better days. It's artistic sweeps and intricate carvings broken and ragged at the edges. In front of the large opening, with steps that would have held hundreds but was kept clear, was the raised dais. McCoy knew some major announcement was going to take place, even without drones flying around the outer edges of the dais.

_This must be about the Vakh Art'u's arrival. What kind of announcement would they be making to the people, that a normal vid announcement wouldn't cover? This can't be good._

He traded glances with Uhura, whose expression echoed his concern, but they didn't speak. The crowd was too close. The anxious and frightened whispers from those around them almost overwhelmed his translator. They didn't know either.

Now, pressed shoulder to shoulder in the crowd around the dais, McCoy had settled behind Uhura's right shoulder, his hand on her left. He pulled her against him, so they wouldn't be pushed or crowded into separating. Around him, the others had their hoods up as well.

Clearly out of fear.

Soon, someone, dressed like an official, came out on the dais and held up his hands. The crowd went silent almost at the same breath. Four blue-uniformed men with holstered phasers came out behind him and stood at the back of the dais. While they watched, four more officials came out of the building and walked across the dais to settle at one side. They move quickly, close together, with their eyes down.

Then, three more people came out.

On seeing them, McCoy drew in a breath of surprise. Under his hands, he could feel Uhura do the same.

_Us? It's our counterparts?_

He hadn't expected to see them. Not out in the open like this. And while he'd gotten used to seeing John look so much like him, seeing this version of himself was surreal. And it went beyond the prosthesis or the wound around it. Both his counterpart and the other Uhura moved and held themselves as people who were used to having power and enjoyed the fear that came with it. Their faces were hard, and their eyes raked over the crowd in a predatory manner. Their black attire and demeanor projected a clear attitude about their place in this society, and about the crowd around them.

The Halkans were their subjects. Beneath them. Nothing more than some sort of prey for them to take at will.

Jim's counterpart also gave him the creeps. Same age, coloring, size and face, this could be  _his_  Jim, in spite of the buzz cut and the ultra-militaristic uniform. Dressed in dark blue, with silver trim and a silver sash, this man moved with a predator's confidence. His smile held more amusement at the trepidation of those around him than any real welcome or fellowship.

And as those bright blue eyes scanned the crowd harshly as he strode toward the front, hands held casually behind his back as if he was comfortable with taking the lead, McCoy felt a chill.

And as those eyes swept past him and Uhura without recognition, McCoy had never been so glad for a hood in his life.

 

***

 

 

Jim Kirk carefully drew back behind the broken vehicle. The crowds coming and going during the mine's shift change only numbered in the hundreds, so strangers might be noticed. He didn't want to crowd Chekov, who'd been able to slip in with an earlier group of workers. They had both joined a group walking toward the mine while they were still a kilometer off and no one seemed to notice them. But heads down, quiet and looking tired and disinterested, the workers hadn't tried to make eye contact with them, or with each other.

As the group got closer to the mine, large, moving platforms passed by them in the other direction, carrying what looked to be mining waste to be dumped. There were a few mine tailings in the area, small hills made of the unwanted earth removed during the process. It was one of the ways they'd pinpointed the mine from orbit. That and the transport blocker over the area was another.

Another group came past Jim's hiding place. He stepped in behind them, careful to match their pace and demeanor so he would blend in. Those coming out looked dirty and beat. He knew dilithium mining, by its very nature, was hard, physical work.

The crystals were not prone to easy breakage in handling, but very sensitive to any power sources and high-frequency sound waves. It was their use as a power source as well as a regulator that made matter/antimatter propulsion possible. A badly cracked or de-crystalized sample was useless. So, they had to be dug out by hand, using only crude tools and handled carefully before they were refined for starship use. The fact that they were so rare, had a limited useful life and were so high maintenance in their mining techniques is why they were considered realistically priceless. The outgoing shift had a good reason to look worn out.

As he followed the group inside the large opening to the mine proper, he took a turn and headed for what was clearly the dilithium storage and delivery area. He walked with purpose. Head up, as if he had reason to be going into that area. More tunnels had been dug on that side of the main entrance to store the dilithium rather than build outside storage. There was a tunnel big enough for outgoing vehicles and off to one side a wide and well-lit cavern, almost the size of the  _Enterprise_ 's docking bay. Down at the end was a fenced area and at  _that_  gate were guards.

And those guards didn't have the look of Halkan natives. They wore dark outfits and carried holstered weapons. They paced back and forth, looking bored.

_Makes sense that they're not Halkan. If this planet is one of the Vulcan High Command's dilithium resources, they'd leave some sort of guard on it. The Halkans aren't by nature aggressive, at least, not in our universe. And apparently not here, either. So, the security force wouldn't have to be large. And the VHC is not having a ship sitting in orbit, keeping a close watch. Either they know the Halkans aren't a problem, or they're tight on ships. Which could be true if they're fighting two wars._

Jim walked up to one of the vehicles parked near the storage area and tried to look like he was examining it. He ran his hands over its surface and snuck a look at the layout of the rooms around him. Behind the fence there were shelves where the dilithium would be stored before being packed up and shipped out. The shelves were covered in crystals of all sizes, but none the tell-tale light pink of the better grade of crystal. Few of them looked usable.

_Must have shipped all the good ones out already. I think we can get in, with a transporter node. One outside and one under the shield, behind the fence. If Scotty can get a transporter beam to bounce from one node to another, we can get in under the shield. They've only got two guards, so a couple of good shots will take them down and another fry a hole in the fence. A signal blocker could keep them from calling for help until we can get the crystals out from under the shield. Or even easier, take out the shield first._

It could be done, although he hated to steal crystals. But his hopes of trading were gone.

_There's no telling how long that Tholian filament will last. This is the closest world, at warp two. The crystals we have could fracture completely, and it would take us years to get to another habitable planet. Our food will run out long before that, even with the replicator and recycling working again. But if we steal the crystals and the compost, all hell could be brought down on the Halkans by the Vulcans, through no fault of their own._

He hated having no choices. He'd have to find another option. Somehow.

_Maybe Chekov will see a better way, from further inside. If we can get to the crystals before they're tagged and cataloged, then the Vulcans won't know that they're gone. But even if we can get our own people down inside, how long do we wait before they find four crystals that we can use? Are we pushing it to get just two? If this mine is already played out, we may already be too late._

At least Chekov knew what they were looking for. And he was sharp.

Just as Jim was eyeing another group to join that could take him into the mines, a loud siren sounded. Jim ducked back around the vehicle, away from the guard's view. Everyone else stopped and turned to look at the various monitors set high on the walls as they flickered on.

Jim startled and froze, then took a step back, pulling his hood further over his face.

On the screen stood a group of well-dressed people on an outdoor platform. On one side was a group of Halkans, looking worried and trying to hide it. But it was the group on the other side and the man in the middle who'd thrown him.

Standing in the center of the platform, in a dark blue uniform with silver piping, a silver sash across his chest and his hair cut down to almost nothing, stood Jim's counterpart.

And just to his left, only a few steps behind, were Uhura and Bones's counterparts. All looking stern and forbidding in all black. Something was wrong with Bones, but Jim couldn't see any real detail.

_The **Enterprise**  is  **here**? Spock must be on the other side of the planet by now. With our comms off, he couldn't warn us. _

_What are they here for? Have they tracked us down? Have they seen some tell-tail sign of the Defiant under the cloaking device? Have they discovered our Enterprise?_

_And so much for us all not looking alike! He could be my identical **twin**. And Bones's and Uhura's as well.  **Damn**  it! We're  **never**  going to figure out all the multiple universe rules! So much for DNA drift this time around! _

"Citizens of Halkan," his counterpart said, a small smile on his face. "I am Sub-Commander Kirk, speaking for Captain Spock and the Vulcan High Command. He would like you to know that we are  _privileged_  to be able to make this visit to your planet. Being under the protective wings of the Vulcan High Command, I'm sure you're much relieved to know that we are here, ready to guard you against any attack from our enemies."

Glancing around under the edge of his hood, Jim noted that no one seemed pleased or privileged. Most seem apprehensive.

_Sub-Commander, Jim_ thought.  _So not the final word on what happens here. Unless their ranks are different. And Captain Spock didn't come himself._

"It seems that Halkan has had some problems, in the past few months, with her contributions to the High Command," Sub-Commander Kirk continued with a slight frown. "We  _understand_ that you're a hard-working people and do your  _best_  for the VHC and your brother and sister planets. Being in such a remote position, not far from the Surakkian Neutral Zone, we understand that there may be some, well... let me say it clearly. We understand that there could be rebels, or enemy spies, who wish you and the VHC harm. The dilithium mines here are a backbone of support for the VHC. We are here to  _help_. Captain Spock, myself and the ship's Inquisitors, are here to make sure that no one is working behind the scenes to sabotage all our hard work."

The screen then went to a close up of the two inquisitors. It was definitely Bones and Uhura. Inquisitor Uhura was striking and deadly looking in her black outfit, her hairstyle reminiscent of many of the civilian Vulcan women he had seen. But it was Bones that demanded his attention. The left side of his face looked wounded and raw, the eye replaced with what looked to be a golden bit of metal.

Jim drew in his breath.

**_Inquisitors_ ** _? If that's what I think it is, they're going to be very, very dangerous people. Her translation and body-language skills and his medical knowledge..._

The memory of the vids he'd seen from the  _Defiant's_  MedBay before the bodies had been removed flashed through his mind. Bones had shied away from talking about what he'd found, beyond documenting it and report it for Starfleet. Jim had known how hard those kinds of acts from fellow doctors had hit him. That was the kind of insanity and talent that chilled the soul.

People with that kind of medical training could make the worst kind of monsters.

"Unfortunately, we do  _not_  have much time," Sub-Commander Kirk continued with a frown. "Rather than take more...  _drastic_ measures... to help the Halkan people increase production, we're offering the people themselves the chance to help their own. Communication centers will be open to take reports of any suspicious activity. And any shirking of duty. I'm sure you _all_  realize that the sooner we can make sure that the Halkan people are safe and secure and that production of dilithium is back to normal, the sooner the  _Vakh Art'u_  can get back to where she belongs. Out in space, protecting you and yours. The Council..."

Sub-Commander Kirk waved at the frightened looking group beside him. "The Council has graciously promised us the full co-operation of Halkan's citizens. Some have even agreed to let us host their families, to ensure that all goes well."

_They're taking hostages. Or sending in groups to guard them at home. No wonder the council already looks beaten._

The Sub-Commander continued. His smile disappeared, his face now harsh. " _Now_  is the time to step up. Before  _we_  have to."

The video screens snapped off. The flow of fearful and concerned conversation filled the cavern as the Halkan miners reacted.

_I need to leave before any of them recognizes me._

He took a step back.

_Chekov should be safe until he can get back to the surface. But I can't let them see him with me._

A hard shove had him catching himself on the side of one of the vehicles. He turned to lash out but found some sort of weapon held up to his face and a strong hand gripping his shoulder. Two men, their own hoods up and covering their faces, stood in front of him.

_I can't get past without a fight. And there are hundreds more of them just a few steps away._

He held up his hands.

"Who  _are_  you?" the nearest one hissed. Jim couldn't see much of his face. He thought he might have been one of the men he and Chekov walked to the mine with.

"He's one of  _them_ ," the other whispered.

_They're whispering. They don't want to be discovered any more than I do._

"Who are  _you?_ " Jim asked casually. "And do we have to have this conversation  _here_?"

The man with the weapon paused, but the other took a step closer.

"It's a trick," The other warned.

"Maybe," the man with the weapon said. "But he's right. We can't do this here."

The man held up the weapon closer to Jim's face, but didn't pull his hood off and expose him.

"You will come with us, or you'll be the first person we turn in to the VHC as a spy."

Jim nodded and didn't struggle when they forced him to turn around, one tying his wrists behind his back. The other kept watch.

_And these may be just the people I need to talk to, Jim_ thought with a small bit of hope.  _I hope Chekov will be able to rendezvous with the others on time. Then they can come find me._

_Let's just hope there's some of me left to be found._

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Chekov watched the announcement with a group of others in one of the many tunnel intersections. He'd known something was up when his group, which was ready to be sent by elevator to a deeper level, was halted and brought back to the nearest juncture. There, other groups were being brought back in, and soon the small space was crowded with miners, all waiting for the nearest vidscreen to come on. Even divested of his cloak, as everyone else was, it was warm. And pressed close to so many others, it was just getting warmer.

 

 _This is a very primitive operation, for such an advanced people,_ Chekov thought, looking around at the way the tunnels were formed. He was by no means an expert on mining, but many of the practices the Halkans were using seemed very unsafe to him. _I'm surprised they haven't brought in any Horta's. They leave very neat tunnels. These are obviously done by hand and primitive percussion machinery. No doubt because dilithium is so sensitive to many types of waves and impulses before it hardens after refinement. So, no force field bracing on the walls, to protect the workers._ ** _Very_** _unsafe conditions._

He hoped that whatever meeting or announcements were to be made would be over quickly. He was anxious to see the lower levels, and how close the crystals were to each other when found. Embedded in various types of materials, the crystals tended to be found in other veins of rock. Like pearls hidden in sandstone. If they were very far apart, then the crystals were tapering out. How they were removed, and handled, would be vital information if they should have to take what they needed. Not that that was a good option, but sometimes unpleasant things needed to be done for the greater good.

Suddenly, the vidscreen came on, and he tried to keep the shock off of his face. He glanced around, looking for the Captain.

_I hope he is in hiding! They will_ **_certainly_ ** _recognize him if he does not keep his hood up. Thank goodness my counterpart is not on that stage!_

Chekov watched the announcement play out, trying to hold in his surprise and growing consternation. The words the Sub-Commander uttered might not have been delivered harshly, but they were clearly meant as a threat. The Halkans had already suffered some massive trauma, to their people and their society. This just promised more of whatever the Halkans feared.

At the end, everyone started talking to their companions, their whispers fearful and harsh.

"We have all heard the orders," an older man announced loudly. Chekov took him to be a manager or boss. "We must _comply_ and be vigilant."

It wasn't until then that Chekov noticed another worker looking at him.

"I don't _know_ him," the middle-aged man said, looking at Chekov with concern. "He walked in with my neighbors and I, with another stranger. But I don't _know_ him."

Chekov suddenly found all eyes in the close room on him. Those next to him stepped away.

 _There is no exit!_ He thought frantically. There were too many people between him and the long walk up to the entrance.

" _Who_ are you?" a man next to Chekov asked, looking concerned, but not threatening.

Chekov grabbed the small translator charm in his fist and pretended to cough into it while he answered.

"Pavel," Chekov coughed, glad that their research had found the name wasn't unusual in this culture, although mostly used for females. He kept his fist by his mouth, to cover the movement of his lips. "I come from--"

Suddenly, another man stepped closer to him, and pulled his hand away from his face, snapping the chain.

Chekov barely heard the words, "What are you holding?" before the small translator was too far away to hear.

Still holding his hand away from his face, the man asked him something else, but Chekov had no idea what.

_Should I talk to them in Standard? They will know that, and they already suspect I'm not a native. What would the Captain do?_

"I am from the _Vakh Art'u_ ," Chekov said loudly in Standard, with confidence. The ring around him grew bigger as the men stepped away from him in shock. "I am here to check up on your production of dilithium."

"Are you?" asked the manager, who walked through the crowd to him. His face showed his suspicions. He made a sign with his hands, to the group around him, that Chekov didn't understand. "Then let us return you to your people. They will be glad to see you safe, I'm sure."

Suddenly, as a group, several men grabbed Chekov's arms and started pulling him in the direction of the surface while prying the necklace from his fist. They were not so forceful they hurt him, but they weren't going to let him get away, either. As a crowd, the dozens of men started toward the surface, taking him with them.

"Wait!" Chekov said, trying to sound commanding. "I have _not_ made my inspection yet! I am _not_ finished--"

"Oh, I think you _are_ ," the manager said with a frown. "Until we are told otherwise."

His mind racing furiously, Chekov decided not to fight them. He tried to walk with dignity and more than a bit of annoyance, as if he really was who he'd claimed he was. He would keep bluffing as long as he could.

But when it came to being handed over to the guards, he didn't know what he could do to stop it.

 _The Captain, and the others,_ Chekov thought with certainty as he started the long walk up, _will come and get me. Whatever I need to do to wait for them, and keep them safe, I will. They will not leave me behind. The Captain is smart. He will find a way._

That, at least, he was sure of.

 

***

 

Jim Kirk knew that he had hit pay dirt when the men who had him covered kept him to the rear of the cavern and pulled him into the back of another vehicle. They clearly didn't want the VHC security to notice their actions. He didn't fight them, or make any threatening moves, even when they tied his hands behind his back. Inside the vehicle, closed off from view, another two men sat. They stared at him, and he nodded back. No one spoke while one of the men scanned him.

They pinpointed the small translator charm and his comm. Both were handed to the man who had the weapon, which Jim took to be the leader.

_Enemy of my enemy may be my friend. Unless they want to use me to trade for something. Then we're back to enemies again._

_I hope Chekov's okay and is getting some good intel. At least, his doppelganger didn't appear on screen. He should be safe enough to finish the job and get word to Uhura and Bones._

_The question is, are_ **_they_ ** _safe?_

There wasn't any way to know that. For all he knew, Chekov could be the only one of them left to complete the mission.

The vehicle started moving. One man slid open a small window, and Jim could just see that their vehicle had pulled out of the large cavern and merged into outgoing traffic. A large vehicle with dirt moved ahead of them. The man nodded and closed the small window, and the four seemed to relax.

The leader said something to Jim, but he couldn't understand it without the translator.

"I'm afraid you took my only means of communication," Jim said calmly. "Unless you all speak Standard."

The four glanced at each other. They were all young men, Jim noted. Maybe in their early twenties. They all had brown hair, brown eyes, and a few had similar features. They were all dress in mining clothes, with the normal capes and hoods for this time of year.

"Who _are_ you?" the leader asked again, in Standard. His brown eyes sharp on Jim's face. "You're _not_ the Sub-Commander. Not unless the VHC has found a way to clone their people. And I doubt they'd waste the technology on a sub-species."

"It's a strange story," Jim said with a smile. "My name is Jim, by the way. I tell you my story, you tell me yours?"

"Probably not," the leader said with a frown. He raised an eyebrow at Jim, reminding him of Spock. " _Jim?_ The same name as the Sub-Commander as well as the same appearance? Strange coincidence, that."

"Should I call you _'Hey You'_?" Jim asked, hoping for a name.

"For the moment," the leader replied. "You don't have much time before I have to make a life and death decision. Yours. So, you'd better use it _well_."

Jim studied the man. He hadn't said it in a threatening way. Just as a fact. He was careful. And, he had the upper hand.

_He will kill me if he has to. But not willingly._

_Do I trust him? If I tell them the truth, at least, a bit of it, worst they can do is kill me. Second worst give me to the VHC Vakh Art'u. Best they could do is help us load up and get the hell out of here._

_Which would be a great thing, unless they wanted something too drastic in return._

He thought about it for a moment, with the leader watching and evaluating him as well.

"My name is Jim Kirk, and I'm from another universe," Jim said, watching for any reaction. "I've come to Halkan to trade, as a friend. I need dilithium crystals, food and organic matter to replace my biomass. Then I go home. In peace."

The other three exchanged glances. The leader just looked at him and frowned. Then, slowly, he reached out to touch Jim's face. Jim startled as the man touched the points for a Vulcan mind meld. He pulled his head away.

"You know what this means?" the man asked calmly, holding up his hand. "Then, it's this or death."

Now that he looked, the man's coloring did look a tiny fraction off.

_Not all Vulcan, or the Romulan's we know. But he has some of that in him. Surakkian? That would explain a lot. The Surakkians would have reason have cross the Neutral Zone and sabotage one of the VHC's dilithium suppliers._

Jim nodded, then threw up what mental barriers he'd been taught at the Academy. From melding with Spock, he thought he knew how to block the stranger from just taking what he wanted. He visualized an endless starfield at warp speed, right behind the man. He imagined the power of each star that passed like a buzz as they streaked by. Like power spikes that came and went, interrupting the flow of his thoughts. He hoped it would create enough of a static buzz to keep the man from probing too deeply.

The man's fingers settled into position. They were cooler than a Vulcan's. The buzz from the man's mind was faint, and for a strange reason, tasted like Terran oranges on his tongue.

"Say it all again."

"My name is Jim Kirk, and I'm from another universe. I've come to Halkan to trade, as a friend. I need dilithium crystals, food and organic matter to replace my biomass. Then I go home. In peace."

"You are not from the Vulcan High Command."

"I am _not_ from the Vulcan High Command."

"You wish us harm."

Jim hesitated, then realized the man was looking for the lie. One or the other of his statements would be true. Not both.

"I wish you harm."

The man jerked back and looked at Jim with surprise, then at the other three.

"He's telling the _truth_. He's not from this universe. He's not connected to the VHC. He means us no harm."

_Not all Vulcan, maybe not even half. But enough in his ancestry to make him a good lie detector? Or another species we haven't met in our universe yet?_

The other three still looked uncertain, but they nodded at the leader.

The leader turned back to Jim. "My name is Lovick, and I am a Surakkian."

Jim smiled tiredly. "You're a long way from home, Lovick."

"Not as far as you are, Kirk." Lovick smiled a bit. "And your ship?"

"Safe," Jim said. "And it will stay where it is until I decide otherwise."

"Another ship might be handy, for that which we must do." One of the other men said.

Jim smiled back. "Then, maybe we can help each other."

"Maybe," Lovick said with a sigh. "I guess we have no choice but to find out."

 

***

 

 

McCoy stood in a dark corner in the empty Halkan home and watched out of the large window, over the center of the city. The house was on the edge of the city's open plaza and raised dais. It had clearly been a well-loved home at one point. But the broken furniture and the scorch marks of phaser fire on the walls spoke of death and destruction. According to McCoy's scanner, someone, maybe more than one, had probably died in this house about three years ago. Probably someone in the Halkan High Council. Maybe the whole Council at the time suffered the same fate.

Which would explain the fear and anxiety of the people in the square. Those who had never known anything but peace in their history had probably lost all their leaders at once. There hadn't been any need for the VHC to make a harsher example of their wrath than that. So, the VHC had let everyone else live, as long as the crystals were produced.

"Do you think anyone saw us?" Uhura asked as she chewed on a small bit of a ration bar, her eyes on the streets outside. McCoy had eaten part of his already.

"If they did, they're better actors than I'd give them credit for."

As the crowd started to disperse, fearful and shaken, McCoy and Uhura had slipped off to the side, ducking into a small alley between buildings. They'd found the door unlocked, so had slipped inside. Hiding in the shadows so they could watch out of the large, open windows facing the street. Over the last hour, they'd watched the last of the crowd leave, and the council and their duplicates go back into the building. Then more VHC guards from the orbiting ship beam down. Now, two VHC shuttles were landing by the dais, settling on either side.

"They're setting up a show, for intimidation purposes," McCoy said.

"They suspect sabotage, rebellion?" Uhura asked. "But no mention of an attack on the forces, or people, they left behind. And the _Vakh Art'u_ just arrived. I wonder what triggered this response?"

"Just hope it wasn't us," McCoy said with a shake of his head. "But neither of our ships reported the VHC ship nearby. If she came in at warp, she's been on her way for a while. So, must be something besides our arrival."

"It will be getting dark in several hours," Uhura said. "When do you think it'll be safe to travel to our rendezvous spot?"

McCoy shrugged. "We don't want to be out too late, by ourselves. That might be noticeable. But we don't want to be in a crowd, either. Someone's going to get a peek under our hoods and freak out. Maybe in a couple of hours, when everyone should be home eating, or on their way home to eat."

She shook her head, and leaned against the wall, careful to stay in the shadows so no one would spot them moving.

"Still freaked out about seeing our doppelgangers?" He asked.

"Frankly, yes. I keep wondering about her. Being an Inquisitor sounds like a very unpleasant job," she said. "I wonder if she's there because she wants to be, or if she's been forced into it."

"Thinking the same thing about mine," McCoy admitted. He remembered that none of the _Enterprise_ crew had ever seen John Grimm. "I have a distant relative that could be my older twin. He's emigrated to Deneva now, so you might get to meet him someday. I've gotten used to us looking a lot alike. But this McCoy threw me a bit. But I expected our nearby universe counterparts to look different than us."

After what Jim had told him about Ambassador Spock and how their universes differ, he'd just taken it for granted they were all that way.

"You mean, like how Ambassador Spock looks different than my Spock?"

McCoy flashed her a look. "You noticed that?"

She looked askance at him, her smile crooked. "Noticed differences _beyond_ body language, facial structure, stance, build, and voice you mean? _Please_ , Len. There's no way my Spock ages into Ambassador Spock. How could I not notice that?"

McCoy sighed. "Just goes to show how much I know about how all this multiple universe stuff works."

She shook her head. "I don't think our science will ever really get all the rules down, Len. Maybe we'll evolve enough to understand it all, one day. But until then, I say we stay prepared to be surprised."

"Surprised seems to be our default state," McCoy admitted.

Suddenly, there was movement in the center of the plaza. A fast looking, clearly non-Halkan vehicle pulled up to the plaza and stopped. Guards scurried to the back of the vehicle and opened a door. Uhura and McCoy moved closer, so they could see better. Uhura took out her hidden scanner and aimed it at the action, bringing up the zoom on the screen. McCoy watched it over her shoulder.

They both gasped when they saw the prisoner being removed from the vehicle and marched to the Halkan Council Headquarters.

It was Chekov.

 

***

 

 

 _This is_ ** _not_** _my ship,_ Chekov told himself over and over. _**Not** my Enterprise. This is _**_not_** _my Doctor McCoy._ ** _Nor_** _my Uhura._

_They will come and_ **_find_ ** _me. They will take me_ **_home_ ** _._

_And to do that, they must stay_ **_safe_ ** _._

The Vulcan ship was different inside. The transporter was the first difference. Theirs was years behind the ones that he knew. He could tell by the tell-tale whine as it took him and his guards, and the fleeting feeling of disorientation as he was reassembled. Then the transporter room was different. Basic. With none of the finesse he was used to on his ship. The walls, the heat in the air and the smell of an old, forgotten closet. He could not pretend this was his ship, even if he wanted to.

Being on a new ship didn't frighten him. His curiosity almost wiped out his fear of the unknown. If he'd been free to roam and examine, he could probably fill weeks, months, cataloging the differences. How fun would that be?

It was the two on either side of him that frightened him.

Not the guards, that pulled him roughly along, with his hands behind his back, threatening to shove just a bit too hard and topple him. Hitting the floor without use of his hands was a minor concern in this situation. It was almost a compliment that they had so many armed guards on him in the first place.

But the other two, that walked behind. They had been called Inquisitors, and they looked like his loved ones.

And at first, that pissed him off. Until that had turned to fear.

Body doubles, shape shifters, body hi-jackers, taking the form of those in his family was insulting. He would know it was not them. That was proven to him when the Captain's body was taken, and that intruder tried to take over the Enterprise. Everyone had known something was wrong, they'd just not been sure what. He would know. Given enough time.

But he knew that here, and now, these were the Nyota Uhura and Leonard McCoy that belonged in this universe. This was their universe, and their family, and he was the intruder.

 _They do not know me, here,_ Chekov thought with hope. _They do not recognize me, which means my double is not on this ship. So, I must not say my name. The Pavel Chekov in this universe may be a good man. I would not wish to bring harm to him._

His mind kept straying away from the McCoy and Uhura that followed behind him as he was marched through the ship, the grinning Inquisitors only a few steps behind him. They were both brilliant people. Some of the best at their jobs. He had seen what the insane Doctors had done on the _Defiant_. That had been insanity, but a Doctor McCoy who would torture people? Because that's what his captors had told him about the two on his way to the city center. They'd told him what kind of people the Inquisitors were. They ones he'd seen on the vid. So, he was not surprised to see them up close.

Not surprised. But certainly, horrified at the thought of what these counterparts could be capable of.

The best in their field? Certainly.

And the terrified part of his brain kept trying to tell him he would not survive this. He would not be going home.

But he squashed those thoughts. His Captain, his people, would come for him. So, he walked confidently. He did not stumble, or falter, or start to beg.

_This is not my ship. Not my Enterprise. This is not my Doctor McCoy. Nor my Uhura._

_They will come and find me. They will take me home._

_And to do that, they must stay safe._

And he remembered a tiny bit of what it had been like in the Captain's mind, when he had been so terribly burned.

_I can do that. I can find a good place in my head._

_I don't have to stay silent. They taught us that staying quiet accomplishes nothing, and only fuels on those who want to hurt us._

_Pain can make me scream, or yell, or use profanity, but it won't make me talk._

_Because I will keep them safe._

_And they will come for me._

He didn't know if the layout of this ship matched the Federation's. But he greatly suspected that he was not being marched to MedBay.

The door he was marched through would have been to the Enterprise's Botany labs. Inside, there was just a long hallway, with doors and opaque windows on either side, and a door at the end. He was marched into a room and held while they stripped him. He did not know what had happened to his comm and the translation device.

They forced him to a biobed, and strapped him in. He fought, just for the principle of it, but it didn't slow them down. They'd all done this before.

Then, when the door shut behind the guards, and it was just him and Inquisitor McCoy and Uhura with him, he started building his safe place.

He stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the warped and damaged face of Inquisitor McCoy, and the evil, smiling face of the fake Uhura. He was building his Enterprise again. Populating it with all his friends, his co-workers... his family. He would close out this world, until he could go home.

"Well, well," the fake McCoy said, smiling evilly above him. " _Look_ what we have here. I always liked them _young_. Don't you, Inquisitor Uhura? The young ones always think they're _so_ strong."

She smirked. "They have no defenses when they're young. No experience. No years of hardship to fall back on for strength. He won't last long."

 _I just have to last long enough,_ Chekov thought, concentrating on rebuilding an engine with Scotty.

He thought about all the small details that meant life or death when the _Enterprise_ depended on that engine to work. He tried to imagine all the pieces in front of him and Scotty. See with all his might what the job entailed. How they would work together. So that it would be real in his mind when the pain came. Because he knew it would.

_Just long enough._

***

 

Wherever they'd taken Jim, it wasn't too far from the mining complex. The vehicle was driven into some kind of small garage area that looked outfitted for vehicle service. Jim was escorted into a side room, his hands still tied behind his back. There were six more people, three women and three men. All looked young. The room itself was full of screens and various data entry devices. Halkan tech tended to be more organic and hidden. This was clearly set up to be moved out quickly, none of it built in.

_They're being supplied or funded from the outside. With a Surakkian here, does that mean that none of the others are natives? Halkan is close to their border. If they wanted to whittle away at the VHC, they'd want to take the closest planets away from them. And a planet full of dilithium would be priceless._

"Who is he?" One of the women asked with shock when she saw Jim. "He can't be--"

"It's okay, Bessa. He _isn't_ him," Lovick said quickly, holding up his hand. "I checked him out, as much as I'm able."

"Mind meld?" she asked uncertainly as she glanced at Lovick. "But you can't be _sure_. You're not--"

"A _full_ Surakkian. I know," Lovick said with a sigh. "But I think he's safe, and his story true."

"Story?" Someone else asked.

"He's from another universe," Lovick said. "The Sub-Commander is his counterpart."

Bessa looked at him with surprise and doubt.

"And you don't think he's going to side against us?" the other woman asked.

"No, I think he can be useful."

"I don't mean any of you any harm," Jim said kindly as he looked at them all. "You're rebels, right? Want to help your people? I'm just here to help mine. We came here to see about trading for what we need to get home. The VHC arriving was a surprise to us as well."

"You can help us?" Bessa asked.

_We can't get involved in a war that's not ours. We're not even sure what all is going on. We need to get home, and not interfere any more than we have to._

Jim frowned, deciding to tell them the truth.

"While we wish you no harm, we can't get involved. This isn't our universe or our fight. Where we can help you without being dragged into all this, I promise we will. But that help has to be limited."

Before anyone else could react to his words, Lovick held up a hand, forestalling their responses.

"I think we can all understand your position, Kirk," Lovick said. "But you may be helpful none-the-less."

Just then, another man came through a door from another room.

"Lovick! There are reports that they have someone!"

"Who?" Lovick asked, stepping forward in concern.

"We don't know," the man said. "We didn't recognize him. But he was taken at the mine."

Lovick turned to look at Jim, whose stomach suddenly knotted at the news.

"One of yours?"

"It's possible," Jim said tightly. "Is there a vid?"

The man nodded and turned back to the other room.

"Release him," Lovick said. "Give him back his tech."

Jim's hands were untied, and his communicator and necklace were handed back to him. He quickly followed Lovick into the other room.

There, the screens showed various locations. Three screens were focused on the center of the city, where there was a sizeable open area with a large building dominating the space. Jim recognized it as the area that the Sub-Commander had used for his speech.

Jim watched as Chekov was unloaded from the back of a vehicle and taken into the Council building.

"He's mine," Jim said tightly.

"Then we need to recover him," Lovick said.

Jim turned to him. "Why? Why would you do that for us? I've already told you we can't help you--"

"Because doing so _will_ help us," Lovick said solemnly. "How that is so is something we'll keep to ourselves for a while. And we have dilithium crystals and can help you out with food and other materials for your biomass."

 _All in, or all out?_ Jim thought, feeling every second that passed as an eternity. _We need Chekov back. If they have a way in, and it helps them, then that's what we'll do._

"What do you have in mind?" Jim asked.

Lovick nodded at the Council building on the screen.

"The Sub-Commander and his people will certainly take your man back to their ship for questioning. If you can take the Sub-Commander's place, then maybe you can get close enough to get your crewman out. They may not be expecting to be attacked inside the building itself. And we have a way to switch you out for the Sub-Commander. If we can get him down by himself, or with just his guard. The Inquisitors, though, maybe a problem if they accompany him."

_He's right. We'll have to get on that ship to get Chekov back. If they really can switch us, then it's worth a shot. And if he can switch me out, then maybe they can do it with Bones and Uhura as well. Three may be better than one, once we get on board. Especially when two of us will have direct access to the prisoner._

"I think we can do even better," Jim said. "Both of the Inquisitor's counterparts are here as well. They're _my_ people."

Lovick's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Then I will take your presence, at this time, as very fortuitous. But if this does work, you will need to leave Halkan quickly."

"Still willing to supply us?" Jim asked. "It seems you are already doing us a big favor."

Lovick nodded. "We have crystals we have been pulling from the mines before inventory, that we can spare. You're welcome to them. Food and biomass are easily supplied. We have contacts with many across Halkan who wish to fight back, and many of them are farmers. We can give you locations where your ship may directly beam up what you need. Your ship can be restocking while we prepare for your crewman's rescue."

 _And I still don't know how this helps them,_ Jim thought. _But my gut says this is it, take the offer and run._

"Let's do this," Jim said, opening up his comm. He pinged Bones.

"McCoy here." Bones's voice was low and worried. "Jim? Did you see--"

"I _saw_ ," Jim said shortly. "Are you two _safe_?"

"As safe as we can be, at the moment," Bones said. "We should be able to walk out of here without drawing too much notice in an hour or so. But we can't let anyone see us, and it's a long walk back to the rendezvous point. We'll have to walk by some guards--"

"You won't have to," Jim said. "We have some new friends and a crazy plan. We'll need to have them pick you up and drive you to their safe house. Describe exactly where you are, and we'll have you picked up."

 

***

 

Jim had sat back and listened as Lovick explained to Bones and Uhura what they were going to do, and then set his people to work to get everything into place. The rebels, as Jim thought of them, had managed to pick up Bones and Uhura and bring them to this location with no problems. They had also given Jim a safe way to contact Spock on the _Defiant_ and update him. The rebels had access to the planet's satellites, and they could bounce the signal from one to another, contacting the _Defiant_ on the other side of the planet without the signal being detected by the _Vakh Art'u_. The VHC ship was in stationary orbit over the main city, so the _Defiant_ was still in hiding on the other side of the planet.

He was thinking over what Uhura had told them about the VHC ship's name, after Spock had announced it was the Vulcan version of _Enterprise_.

_Vakh Art'u. Vulcan for 'bold undertaking'. Enterprise. It's mind-boggling to think how similar we are, and yet how fundamentally different._

_Is this what our universe would have been like if the Vulcans hadn't reformed during their early years and followed Surak? Without the rejection of Vulcan's violent past? With logic used as a means to further their exploits?_

_Does that mean the Surakkians are like our Vulcans? They set out to colonize a new world, set up a new, peaceful society, and created a Federation of their own, that didn't include Humans? Bones says that Lovick definitely has Vulcan ancestry, as well as Human. So, some Humans_ **_are_ ** _in that mix. And Lovick's people look to him as their leader, so he doesn't seem hampered by the blending. I wonder if this Universe's Spock could say the same?_

_Somehow, I doubt it._

Bits and pieces of their conversations told Jim that the other's in the group were actual Halkans. Most had been off-planet three years ago when the VHC had wiped out the original Council. They were young and had returned to their home planet to help their families to rebuild and deal with the shock and loss. And to fight back where they could. Revolt. Part of that revolt had been to slowly start leaching off the better dilithium crystals as they were mined, but before they were cataloged. As Jim had hoped to do when it became clear there would be no trading. But for some reason, they'd become sloppy, and the VHC had sent a ship to correct the problem.

_Why do I feel that they're not as sloppy as they seem? Somehow, for some reason, they wanted the VHC's attention. But Lovick won't say much more._

_Whatever they've got planned, I just hope we're not caught in the middle of it._

He knew that they'd only have one shot at getting Chekov back. That, logically, they shouldn't even be trying. One crewman's safety against that of over a thousand? They weren't even sure how much time they'd have to get back to the rift in space before the filament dissipated into nothingness. Having it would help, but with the cloaking device at least they had a chance of forcing their way into the rift again without it. And with the orientation buoy in the rift, they had a better chance of picking the right universe once inside.

_With just warp two, it took us almost two weeks to get to Halkan. If Scotty says both ships can hit warp seven, that knocks that trip down to just less than eight hours._

_We're so close now. We need the kid. We can't leave him here._

Uhura, Spock and Bones hadn't even questioned his decision to go in after Chekov. It was good to know they felt the same way.

_We get supplies, and our crewman back. But what do Lovick and his people get? How does being generous with us help them?_

_I'll guess we'll have to find out, the hard way._

After everyone's introductions, and the plans laid out, Bones pulled Jim over to a side room where they could speak quietly.

"Jim, Lovick says that there's supposed to be a new announcement from the VHC in three hours, and that we're supposed to switch then," Bones said worriedly. "Say we're in place on time, and can take the place of our counterparts. Do you really think we can get Chekov off the ship, if he's there?"

"I don't know," Jim said honestly. "But we have to try."

"I'm not suggesting we don't," Bones said. "Uhura and I are both willing. But how do we know this isn't a trap? They get Chekov and lure us in. They get us and lure Spock in?"

"We can't be sure, but we can be _aware_ ," Jim said. "Spock has orders not to come after us. To either do what he needs to do to get both ships home, or head for the black and a new planet to settle."

Bones shook his head. "And both ships'll be prepared for another shot at the rift, if things go south on us?"

"Spock has already sent down a shuttle for the replacement crystals," Jim told him. "And the coordinates to beam up food and matter for the biomass. Enough for both ships. By the time we switch, he'll be loaded and ready to go. With or without us."

Bones looked unconvinced. "That's a hell of a lot of resources to just hand out to strangers."

Jim smiled. "You mean, like we do when we come across damaged ships that need our help? I think the Surakkians are more like us than the VHC will ever be. Sometimes, _we'll_ be the ones needing the charity and a hand up."

Bones sighed. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe I'm just being too cynical."

"You're worried. So am I." Jim sighed. "But they have the upper hand here. They've got the ability to re-create the uniforms we need, and schematics of that class of Starship we can study. They've been planning something for quite a while, and I have a feeling lured that ship here for their own reasons. And, somehow, we fit in. If it gets us what we need, then we can only play along, take the charity and the help, and hope for the best."

Bones looked around, then lowered his voice, leaning in to whisper into Jim's ear. On impulse, Jim wrapped his arms around Bones's neck, pulling him close. They didn't have time for anything more personal, but it felt good anyway.

"They don't know about _it_ , do they?" Bones asked in Jim's ear, arms now around Jim's waist. "Are they going to betray us for _it_?"

_He means the cloaking device. They think the Defiant is out beyond scanner range, and will swoop in to pick up the supplies. I don't think they know about it being invisible. But it is a worry._

"I honestly don't think so. And Spock's orders are clear," Jim said. "You and Uhura just be prepared for _anything_. We'll just have to deal with whatever comes up."

_A few more hours and we'll have everything we need to make the trip home._

_Even Chekov._

Jim gave Bones a quick hug, pulled away reluctantly. "We'd better get our hair cut, and you get that eye attended to. The uniforms will be ready soon. Clock's ticking."

"At least there's someone here to help Uhura with her hair," Bones said with a grin as they moved to join the others in the next room. "I was afraid they'd ask me! An eye I can handle, but that Vulcan hairstyle? I'm a Doctor, not an architect!"

Jim smiled as he went back to work, only glancing at Uhura, who'd been placed on a stool. She was looking over a schematic of the _Vakh Art'u_ while two of the rebels worked to re-create the Inquisitor's complex hairstyle.

 _Thank God for small blessings_ , Jim thought, running a hand through his soon-to-be shorn locks. _At least she had the hair to work with._

 

***

 

In the room the rebels had set aside for anything medical, McCoy studied the picture of his counterpart. Especially the replaced eye. Their deadline was getting close. Jim, Uhura and he had been supplied with uniforms that match their counterparts. They had vehicles ready to get them to the Council building, and a way to sneak them in. Somehow, the rebels were going to be able to get the three of them in place to take over as their counterparts. Then it would be up to them to get Chekov out of the ship and down to the planet.

Once done, the _Defiant_ could drop into sight, transport them up, warn the Enterprise, and both of them run like a bat out of hell for the rift if they needed to.

McCoy tried not to think about everything that could go wrong. Since that would just freak him out. So, he put his mind into getting the last of his disguise ready.

_Orbicularis oculi undamaged, but that cheekbone doesn't look normal. The palbebral portion of that nerve bundle is intact. Temporal and Buccal branches of the nerves a near miss. They were careful to avoid the Zygomatic branches of nerves. Of course, facial integrity and reconstruction is kid's play. The real question is what kind of connection of the prosthesis and optic nerve they put into place. If they even went that route. Probably a micro-wire implantation to the temporal and parietal lobe. What he actually perceives will depend on his age when it was done. The younger he was, the more time his brain has had to adapt._

_I'm betting he hadn't reached his full growth yet. Which is why the cheekbone is a bit off. Bone structure finished maturing, but the implant didn't. They've built the actual scanner into his cheekbone and upper jaw. The eye is the monitor. The glittery gold is the backdrop, like a shade, to keep out light. So, he's probably 'seeing' the data as waves or light-dark images, rather than the way his right eye sees. He's had it long enough to learn to read the info._

He had to admit it was hard to look at. Humans had a natural, predictable, visceral reaction to open wounds, missing eyes...

_The wound is fake, though. He's roughed it up to make it look new, but it's old. Add the created 'wound' to the obviously replaced eye, most people would get good and creeped out by having it staring them in the face._

_That's going to be a bitch to re-create here. I can do the gold-colored lens easily enough. But the facial wounds will be hard to do with the equipment they have. Everything here is to heal things closed, minimalize scarring to nothing. That's the opposite of what I'd need to do._

He sighed and double checked the supplies. If they'd been on either ship, he could do it in a heartbeat. Or, one of the other doctors could. But his tools were limited here, and they didn't have a lot of time.

"Well, fuck," McCoy said under his breath as he gathered the tools he did have. He didn't see that they had much choice.

Jim came through the door. The close haircut making him look a bit tougher, while accenting the cool blue of his eyes. It reminded him of when Jim's hair was growing back after his burn injuries.

"Bones!" Jim said, seeing him. "We're getting close on time. How's your eye coming?"

"Just now ready to tackle that," McCoy said. "Braylen? You have lythica film for cornea and contact use?"

"Of course," Braylen said. "We need to cover that eye up. We could go for a patch--"

"They're _not_ going to buy that," McCoy said quickly. "He wouldn't trust the healers here to give him one, so he'd wait until he got to the ship. If you've got the lythica, you can use liquid gold polymer to make it gold. You'll just need to scan my eye to make a good fit."

"Bessa can do that," he said.

"Good. Get her to make me a gold contact lens to match," McCoy tapped on the PADD. "That's easy then. It's the scarring I'm worried about."

McCoy handed Braylen the PADD with the picture. "He's had them layer the scarring to make it look like an open wound. Then had it permanently colored to look raw and a bit bruised."

Braylen squinted at the picture, then resized it to look larger. Jim came up behind him to look at the picture over Braylen's shoulder.

"That," McCoy continued, "and either shave off some of the left cheekbone or pad the right one to look a bit bigger."

Braylen frowned. "We don't have anything here that could recreate that specific--"

"I _know_ ," McCoy said. He dragged four fingers from his forehead, across his left eye and to his cheek. "It'll need to be fresh."

"Doctor?" Braylen said. "I'm not sure that is a wise--"

"What do you mean, ' _fresh_ '?" Jim broke in with concern.

"Jim, this implant isn't meant to _look_ healed. And all _these_ tools _heal_. If this manipulation is meant to look fresh, the best bet we have to matching it is making it true."

"You mean," Jim began, looking surprised, "actually wound you?"

McCoy nodded. "Deep enough to bring up the raw edges, in four deep cuts, then seal them off just enough to stop any current bleeding but not pull them closed. Add in an inhibitor to keep it from swelling out of shape."

McCoy could read Jim's face as he fought with himself. _'No. I don't like it. Find another way.'_ quickly turned to _'It's just for now. We don't have the time to mess with this. It has to look real. He wouldn't suggest it if it wasn't the best bet._ '

"Fine," Jim said reluctantly. "Do what you need to do. We've got another hour and a half before the other's beam down to the surface. We need to be in place before that." He turned to Braylen. "You can do it safely?"

"Damaging his face is easy," Braylen admitted, looking uncertain. "I've just never done something like that before."

"Consider it a new skill," McCoy said. He turned to Jim and nodded at the picture. "Braylen can send this to Bessa's PADD. You see about getting her to whip me up a golden contact lens."

Jim nodded, looking unhappy. Jim knew he was just being sent away, so he wouldn't get to watch.

"I'll do that." Jim turned and left.

Braylen went to gather his equipment.

"Real, sharp edge. Nothing laser," McCoy said as he walked to the other table and found a small mirror. He grabbed an old-fashioned type medical marker and studied his own face in the mirror. He carefully drew four lines where he wanted Braylen to cut.

 _Nothing M'Benga can't fix later,_ McCoy thought as he finished checking the lines. _And it's not like I'm going to feel it. But what the hell drives someone to do this on purpose?_

McCoy was afraid he was going to find out.

 

***

 

 

Jim, Uhura, Bones, Lovick and several of his men stayed hidden in the secret room of the Halkan Council building, waiting for Sub-Commander Kirk's impassioned plea to the Halkan people to end. Dressed exactly like their counterparts, Jim, Uhura, and Bones waited anxiously for the moment they could actually switch places with the _Vakh Art'u_ crew.

 _He's really pouring it on now,_ Jim thought at he watched his counterpart address the Halkan people from their own city center.

Sub-Commander Kirk was slick, praising the Halkan people for turning over a spy to them so quickly, while at the same time implying that the Vulcan High Command was disappointed that there wasn't _more_ co-operation on the Halkan's part. How can the VHC keep the Halkans safe, if the Halkans didn't do their part?

_He's twisting it to sound like it's the Halkan's own fault if the VHC comes down on them. And the Council members aren't even there anymore, on the dais with them. They have no power, no say, so there are no negotiations at hand._

_Either the Halkan's pony up with more dilithium, turn over spies or scapegoats, or both, or they're facing another attack from the Vakh Art'u. Maybe even annihilation._

"What are they digging for?" Bones asked in a whisper as they all watched the screens. "Do they really think there's spies, and that the dilithium shipments have been hijacked?"

Jim kept his eyes on his counterpart, waiting for any signal that the announcement had come to an end. And this close, he knew if he saw Bones's face again, he'd get caught up in studying the damage. It was hard for him to look at, even knowing it was all repairable, and the eye safe behind the golden contact. At least they'd been able to create one that Bones could actually see through.

"I'm not sure," Jim said, shaking his head slightly. "I have the feeling that this is all a show, a dragging of their feet, for what they really plan."

"They're going to wipe everyone out," Bones said grimly. "Set an example. Bring in others to mine, who don't have ties to this planet. Then gut it. So why the speeches?"

"Looks like we may find out soon enough."

The Sub-Commander finished his speech, flanked by the two Inquisitors and his guard. All three of them had recognized the guard as their Hendorff's counterpart. Then the screen went dark.

The Rebels in the room with Jim drew their weapons, all attention on the transport platforms at the other end of the room. One of Lovick's men manned the controls.

"They're signaling for beam up," the tech said.

"Beam them over," Lovick ordered.

The transporter hummed into action.

It was a brilliant plan, possible only because Lovick had a spy on the _Vakh Art'u._ And that someone only relayed the transport request, letting Lovick's people beam the four from the open area of the dais to this hidden transporter.

And it worked well.

Just as Sub-Commander Kirk of the _Vakh Art'u_ and the other three solidified in front of them, Jim and two of the rebels fired, leaving Hendorff untouched.

The three stunned officers hit the floor, shock, and surprise on their faces. They'd had just enough time to realize something had gone wrong. Hendorff, on the other hand, looked relieved. He, too, was one of Lovick's men.

 _At least we didn't have to kill them,_ Jim thought, settling into place. _But there's no telling if what the rebels have planned for them would be worse. Lovick is still playing his cards close to his vest._

The guard, Hendorff, looked at Jim, Bones, and Uhura, his eyes wide. Hendorff smiled as the unconscious bodies of the real Sub-Commander and two Inquisitors were dragged away to another room.

" _Damn_ , Lovick! How'd you find people who look so much like--?"

" _No_ time, my friend." Lovick walked up to Hendorff and placed his hand on Hendorff's shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze as Jim and the others took their place on the pads. They shook hands. "Just take care of these three. They're our friends. And be ready to improvise, as always."

Jim didn't miss the quick passing of something small from Hendorff to Lovick in the handshake. Something neither wanted Jim or his crew to see. But Jim had been looking for it.

_Data? Intelligence? Secrets that they couldn't pass in any other way? Is that what Lovick was after, all along?_

Hendorff nodded, "I'm ready. Let's go."

Lovick stepped back and spoke into his comm. "They're ready. Go."

Jim took a breath as the _Vakh Art'u's_ transporter took them.

The beam up itself was different than he was used to. Jim had to take a breath to try not to sway with dizziness. He fought the temptation to look at Bones and Uhura, to see if they felt it as well. This transporter felt rougher, more primitive, which was a surprise.

_Are ours that much more superior? I would have thought there wouldn't be any aspect of the sciences that we'd outshine a Vulcan culture. Maybe too many years at war, and not enough time or effort on the finer details._

The transporter room was darker than he was used to, the walls all copper colored and the lights more recessed. The room had the feeling of roughness, as if it was only partly finished, with few of the working connections and conduits covered. The air was hotter than he was used to. And very dry. He could now see the advantage of the crew cut for the men, and the chin-length cut for the women.

The technician stood at attention. She glanced at Hendorff before addressing Jim. "Sub-Commander? The Captain has just sent word that he wishes to see you in his Ready Room upon your return."

Jim held back his disappointment.

_Damn! I was hoping to go straight to the Interrogation rooms. Bones and Uhura will just have to get the rescue started without me._

"Of course," Jim said. He turned to look at Uhura and Bones, who were standing stone-faced next to him. "I'm sure the Inquisitors are anxious to get back to their prisoner. Carry on."

"Of course, Sub-Commander," Uhura said as she gave him a polite nod. "We will expect you soon."

 _Hopefully sooner rather than later,_ Jim thought as he watched Bones and Uhura walk into the corridor. Both moving with a militaristic stride.

"You know where the Ready Room is?" Hendorff asked once Uhura and Bones had left.

"I've had a quick study," Jim said as he headed toward the corridor. He didn't say that this ship was a close match to his own. "You can talk me through a wrong turn."

Once outside the transporter room, he was struck by the differences between the _Enterprise_ and the _Vakh Art'u_. The _Enterprise's_ corridors were sleek and rounded, with blue lights recessed to make them light and cheerful, while business-like at the same time. The _Vakh Art'u_ was all harsh angles, and square intersections, with copper colored plates and large bolts all up and down the walls. The corridor was about the same size, but felt wider, as crewmen noticed his passage and moved to stand at attention with their back to the walls as he passed. Most moved quickly, as if in the middle of a red alert, or afraid to be caught in the corridor at all. A few women passed, their hair cut chin length and in the same uniforms as the men. It struck him then how powerful the Inquisitors must be, if Uhura's counterpart could brazenly ignore such regulations on hair length. Or it may be a perk of her position to set her own regulations.

Sometimes, power expressed itself in the little things, rather than the big ones.

One woman, in the Sciences, looked as if she was almost trembling as he passed by. He tried to keep his eyes forward, and not seem to notice her.

"Any word on the condition of the prisoner?" he asked Hendorff as the entered the lift.

"Alive, as far as I've heard," Hendorff said, keeping his voice very low.

_Good, at least there's that._

"I can't go into the Ready Room with you," Hendorff added. "You'll buzz the Ready Room door, then wait for permission to enter. The Captain's guards may attend him, or they may not."

" _Thanks_ ," Jim said under his breath, meaning it.

The lift opened, and Jim found himself close to the Bridge. Near the Ready Room door, two Vulcans stood guard.

_Assassination attempts against the Captain as well? No wonder they're not doing very well with their wars. They're too busy fighting amongst themselves._

Jim went to the doors and buzzed the comm. Then stood at attention to wait. He hoped the two guards found this normal for the Sub-Commander they knew.

When the doors slid open, Captain Spock of the _Vakh Art'u_ stood before him.

This was his Spock's true twin, much more so than Ambassador Spock had been. Also dressed in the ship's dark blue, Captain Spock's piping was dark green, the color of freshly shed Vulcan blood. The rest of him seemed the same, except for the beard and mustache. Jim had seen a Van Dyke beard on Spock before, but not with both his hair and beard trimmed with such precision. Spock's eyes were usually filled with some emotion or expression only a few knew him well enough to read. This Spock, _Captain_ Spock, had eyes hard and closed to interpretation.

"Sub-Commander," Spock said, stepping back to let him pass. "You have much to report."

While Hendorff moved to the side of the door, in the corridor, the two Vulcan guards moved to follow Jim in.

The Captain's guards stood just inside the door.

 _Are they guarding him, or guarding against him?_ Jim wondered for a second. _If a Captain is allowed no privacy, then that must mean he's not trusted. Is that part of the job, or part of how he fits into this society? If they feel as superior as it seems, they may not trust his mixed blood. I'll have to watch it. He may feel he has a lot to prove to the High Command._

Spock moved to sit at the dark, wooden table. Jim went to stand in front of it, at parade rest. He could only hope it was the expected way to meet with this Captain. He hoped he didn't look as nervous as he felt.

"I see, Sub-Commander, that you have much to report about the Halkans," Spock began, eyes on his desk as he began to type in computer commands. "What have you been able to discover about their diminished dilithium production?"

Jim's mind raced. He had no idea what the Sub-Commander might have already reported.

"Sub-Commander?" Captain Spock looked up at him at his delay, one eyebrow raised.

_I have to cover for them, somehow._

"I believe the Halkan mining engineers are starting to believe that they are working a tapped-out vein," Jim said. "And that their deficiencies are a signal that this particular mine is no longer productive."

"Really?" Spock said. "I had the impression that our people believed that this core vein would last many more years."

"Wishful thinking, I believe," Jim said. "With the need for the dilithium never ending, I believe that our people may have been encouraged to show the deposits larger than they actually are."

Captain Spock sat back in his chair and looked closely at Jim. Jim could feel sweat run down his back. He tried to relax and not flinch.

"That is your _belief_?" Captain Spock asked. "And what about the prisoner?"

"I have found no new information on the prisoner," Jim said.

"We, apparently have, now that his DNA has been processed. How did a Human child-prodigy escape his academic compound and end up here? The security on those compounds is usually very strong. Seeing as Humans worth that kind of educational investment by the High Command tend to be too... _soft_ for the war effort. And too valuable to let amongst the commoners."

 _So, Chekov's not got a double on this ship?_ Jim thought frantically. _Then that buys us some time! If they don't suspect there are doubles around, they won't be looking for them._

"I don't believe the Halkan's know anything about him," Jim said. "If they had known, I believe they would have turned the information over to us at the time they presented him."

"How very unusual," Spock said dryly, watching Jim closely. "I would assume _someone_ on the planet must know. You seemed very insistent that you be allowed to follow that up before this last presentation to the Halkan people. Believing it would lead you to more information. I _do_ see that you followed my orders and have not yet arrested any Halkan's for interrogation on the matter. Much to the Inquisitor's frustration, I assume."

"It is my _duty_ to follow orders, Captain." Jim held his pose as Spock got up from his chair.

Jim help himself still and tried to relax as Spock walked to the other side of the desk, his hands behind him, studying Jim. His stomach sank as the Captain of the _Vakh Art'u_ walked around him.

_He suspects something._

"I have made a decision on the Inquisitor's request to increase the pressure on the prisoner," Spock said. "He is weak. I do not believe that we can get such detailed information from him without his death. That would be a waste, and I'm not inclined to give the Inquisitors time to play with him. Instead, I believe he should be executed, for unlawful travel and escape from his assigned duties."

Jim didn't react as the Captain walked back in front of him.

"Executed in public, on the Halkan square. I will attend, as a further warning as to how serious their situation is. That should shake them up enough that the Halkan's will fold before the deadline and will do what they must to increase the dilithium supply."

_Execution! But that can work in our favor. We can get him to the planet. With the Captain's orders, we can get him off the ship._

"Yes, Sir," Jim replied. "I agree."

"Good," Captain Spock said, going back to his desk. "I will send my order to the Inquisitors. Go and get the prisoner ready. Their sun is setting on the main city. I want to leave within the hour, so that the Halkans will have this example fresh on their minds when they retire. Excused."

"Aye, Sir," Jim said, holding himself to a sedate pace, although he wanted to sprint out of the door.

Outside, Hendorff was waiting for him.

Jim started down the hall, back to the lift. He already knew the route, had memorized all the routes from the Interrogation room to the transporters, and even the docking bay. It hadn't taken much effort.

The Interrogation Rooms had no counterpart on Federation ships. A suite of rooms with only one exit, it was part of the Botany labs on his ship. Ones that were set up for testing in all manner of ways. Jim didn't even want to think about what the rooms on the _Vakh Art'u_ had been used for.

He also needed permission to enter this area. His buzz was answered quickly.

Uhura, looking imposing and deadly in her new persona, stood at the door when it slid open. Her face stony, she nodded at him and turned back into the entryway. As soon as the door slid shut behind the three of them, she turned, her face angry.

"He's alive, but he's been _tortured_ ," she said through gritted teeth. She clenched her fists. "Len's with him."

"Is there anyone else here?"

She shook her head. "We sent the attending medics back to MedBay. We've declared the office off limits, so no one will walk in on us. Only he and I can admit people now. I've killed all the recording devices in the room with him. There aren't any outside the interrogation rooms themselves."

"Check her desk," Jim said taking Uhura's arm. "We both have orders to take the prisoner down to the planet, for public execution. Within the hour."

Her eyes got wide. "They plan to--"

"We can _use_ this. Get him down to the _planet_ , we can get him _home_ ," Jim said, giving her arm a squeeze. "Concentrate on that."

Uhura took a breath and nodded. "Understood. They're in that room."

She turned and went to a back room.

Jim turned to Hendorff. "If you have a way to communicate with Lovick, do it _now_. We have less than an hour."

Hendorff nodded, frowning. "I'll be back in a bit. _Don't_ walk around the ship without me. You can be assassinated just as well as the real Sub-Commander. And _don't_ leave without me. Lovick needs me there when you switch again."

Hendorff turned and left.

Jim went to the door Uhura had pointed out, steeling himself before he walked through.

Inside the room, Bones was standing next to a biobed, where Chekov lay. Bones's hand was on the covers over Chekov's stomach, and he was talking softly to him while watching the biobed readings and typing something in. Jim came up on them and tried not to react at seeing Chekov.

Chekov's eyes were open, and he was staring fixedly at the ceiling. His hair was plastered to his head. Sweat and tear marks had left trails on his pale skin. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his lips were cracked. What was worse was that up and down both arms there were dozens of red burn marks. Some the size of Jim's thumbnail, some smaller. The skin around them had started to bubble, and on one place on Chekov's shoulder a patch of skin looked melted. His right hand was swollen, and the fingers twisted unnaturally.

Chekov didn't seem to notice either him or Bones.

"We'll fix you right up, Pavel," Bones was crooning softly. "Just hang on until we can get you home, Kid."

"Bones?"

Bones turned, just realizing Jim was behind him. The prothesis still unnerving, but Bones didn't need both eyes visible for Jim to see that he was livid. Bones stepped away from the bed and grabbed Jim's arm, pulling him out of Chekov's earshot.

"He's been _tortured!_ " Bones hissed, his grip on Jim's arm tightening. "Old school style _and_ hallucinogens. They started with first and second degree burns on his arms and chest. Purposely avoided third degree because his nerves would've died, and he wouldn't have been in as much pain. Probably a laser set on cauterize. Crushed the finger bones on his right hand. I think they were going to start on the left when they got back. What they gave him induces _nightmares_. I _can't_ put him completely out until most of that wears off. The stress on his heart could _kill_ him."

" _Damn_ it!" Jim said, fists clenching as rage ran through him. "We should have gotten here _sooner!_ "

"And you think _this_ is bad? He hasn't even been _questioned_ yet!" Bones ground out through gritted teeth. "According to their _own_ notes, the bastards haven't even _asked_ him anything. They were fucking _playing_ with him!"

Jim took a breath. "We have orders to get him ready to beam to the surface, for a public execution. We don't have much time."

"Execution?" Bones asked with astonishment. "I'm damned sure our counterparts weren't done with him yet."

" _Captain_ Spock's orders. He's coming to push the point home to the Halkans about how much danger they're in. We're going to take full advantage this to get Chekov _off this ship_ ," Jim promised. "Get him ready to be moved."

"Jim? He's not going to know we're not the bad guys," Bones said with a grimace. "When he starts to come down from this drug, he's going to be scared, confused and will fight us."

Jim frowned. "Understood. We'll be as careful as we can be. Make him as comfortable as you can."

Bones nodded.

Uhura came in, looking grim. "The orders are logged. We don't have much time."

"Give me a second," Bones said, going back to Chekov's biobed controls. "We'll need some sort of stretcher or anti-grav gurney. No way can they expect him to walk."

Jim and Uhura went to look for a stretcher or gurney.

 _They'd better be_ ** _ready_** _down on the planet,_ Jim thought angrily. _Because it's going to get_ ** _nasty_** _if they try to take him again._

_I'm_ **_not_ ** _letting that happen._

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

  

The walk to the transporter was tense, but McCoy was glad for once that his and Uhura's uniforms kept crewman away. Anyone who wanted to look at them too closely averted their eyes when McCoy made a point of looking back at them. Fear was respect, of a kind, but not one that he'd ever wanted to be responsible for.

_He's a **monster**. Both of them are. The **things** in their files... _

It bothered him greatly, that _any_ version of him had been able to do what those private records had said he had done to Chekov and countless others. This wasn't like the type of insanity the _Defiant's_ crew suffered. _This_ McCoy was supposedly _sane_. And this wasn't like John, where McCoy had always seen him as someone else, just someone who he shared a face with. This McCoy _was_ him, in this universe. So much so that his thumbprint and his DNA could open anything the Inquisitor had sealed away.

Everything that belonged to this McCoy felt like it was a part of himself as well. He knew he shouldn't feel that way but looking at Uhura's face told him she was probably feeling the same way. They both felt ashamed.

Chekov was struggling now, in the throes of the hallucinogen. He was silent, but his mouth moved, and his eyes rolled as fine tremors rolled down his body.

_At least I know what kind of a mixture they gave him. We get to the Defiant, I can start counteracting it, supervise his mind coming down from whatever nightmare he's in. Start the process to heal his fingers. We finally get home, assign him a counselor, so he can talk to someone who specializes in torture issues, even if it's over sub-space._

_But we have to get him off this damned ship, first._

McCoy tried not to react when he, Uhura, Jim, and Hendorff got to the transporter and he got his first look at Captain Spock.

_Another twin. The beard and mustache make him look hard and emotionless. He's clearly someone dangerous. I have to remember that. I have to remember that about **all** of them. _

Captain Spock, Jim, as well as the three guards, were all armed.

_If this breaks down to a shoot-out, it's going to get messy._

"Sub-Commander," Captain Spock said as the four approached him with the anti-grav stretcher. "You are late."

"I apologize," Jim said quickly, moving to stand at attention. "The prisoner put up more of a fight than we anticipated. The Inquisitors have seen that he will be no problem while on the planet."

McCoy almost held his breath, waiting for the Captain's response.

_This could all fall apart, right here..._

"Considering that he's soon to be executed, I don't think that will be a worry," Captain Spock said casually. "Let us be on our way and get this finished. We only have a few more days before our deadline. Without complete compliance to our demands, the Halkan population must be annihilated."

_The **whole** population? Oh, my God, we have to tell this to Lovick! There has to be something they can do to stop them! _

McCoy tried not to react. His counterpart wouldn't be surprised at this. Not with his history.

Captain Spock started to turn to enter the transporter room, but then turned toward his Vulcan guards, as if just realizing they were there.

"You will stay here," Spock told them.

"Sir," one of the guards said gruffly, stepping forward, head bowed. "We would be remiss in our jobs if we were not there to guard you."

Jim saw Captain Spock narrow his eyes at the response.

"These are _Halkans_ , Sub-Lieutenant. I will _not_ have them believe I fear them. You _will_ stay."

"Sir," the guard said, keeping his head down. He stepped back.

The rest of them followed the Captain into the transporter room.

Jim, Hendorff and the Captain were beamed down first, leaving McCoy and Uhura with Chekov and the gurney.

Uhura gave him a tight nod, just before they were beamed down, letting him know she was ready for whatever happened next.

He gave her a wink back, with his golden eye, and the corner of her mouth turned up a bit.

When they materialized inside the Council building on Halkan, they were both back into character.

_Time to make things happen._

 

***

 

 

Jim tensed when the second transporter beam caught him, just after materializing in the Halkan Council building. As he was rematerialized in the hidden room, he realized that Lovick had made his move. Lovick and his men were at the back of the room, and Jim just had time to realize they weren't armed. He grabbed his phaser and turned, stepping back and pointing it at Captain Spock.

"Kirk!" Lovick said quickly, stepping up to reach for Jim's arm. "Don't! Step down. We have the others to transport here!"

Jim kept his phaser aimed at Captain Spock, who removed himself from the platform but made no motion toward his own weapon.

No one moved as Bones, Uhura and the stretcher with Chekov formed in front of them.

 _No one has the Captain covered. Not even Hendorff._ Jim thought. _Either we've been taken in, or the Captain's on their side._

It hit him then, what had been going on. In a fraction of a second, he saw what at least part of the plan had been. And as Bones and Uhura looked around in surprise, then at him, a huge explosion rocked them.

"Come! It's happening!" Lovick said. "This way!"

As a group, they all turned to follow Lovick and his men down a dark tunnel. Jim made sure to keep his phaser in hand as he fell behind the group, including Captain Spock. For the next few minutes they all moved quickly, trying to keep their feet as loud, ear bursting explosions shook everything around them.

Bones and Uhura were ahead of him, and he helped to keep Chekov's gurney moving. It seemed like hours, but in reality, Jim estimated they'd been moving only a few minutes when they came up and out in another set of buildings. All were covered in dirt and dust, and Jim could hear more explosions, screams, and alarms going off behind the walls.

"Call your First Officer," Lovick told Jim. "Have him ready to make a pass and beam you all up on our signal. We have a few minutes left to wait."

With all eyes on him, Jim pulled out his comm and signaled the _Defiant_.

"Spock? Can you read me?"

Jim noticed Captain Spock's eyebrow rose as he heard the name.

"Captain! There's a Klingon ship that has just appeared in orbit near the main city. They had to have been cloaked. They're firing on the main city and the _Vakh Art'u_ is just now responding. Are you safe? Do you wish us to respond?"

"Do not interfere between the _Vakh Art'u_ and the Klingon vessel," Jim said. "We're _all_ together. Are you still cloaked?"

"Affirmative," Spock replied.

"Keep your ship _out_ of this," Lovick said, a hand up in appeal. "Let us finish what we started and take this distraction as a chance to leave."

" _Stay_ cloaked," Jim ordered Spock. "Stay on this line. I have a feeling the _Vakh Art'u_ will be leaving orbit soon, to chase the Klingon ship. Revenge, for killing their Captain."

Both of Captain Spock's eyebrows rose as he turned to look at Lovick.

"I believe that my first instinct was correct," Captain Spock said to Lovick.

Lovick smiled back. "I will concede that you _might_ be correct. We shall see."

"Jim?" Bones asked, looking confused.

"He's been their goal all along," Jim said, putting his phaser away. "Captain Spock is _defecting_ to the Surakkians."

"Defecting?" Uhura asked in surprise. "All this... you couldn't just leave?"

"You haven't been in our universe long enough to understand," Lovick said kindly. "Spock has been under surveillance for years, just in case such a scenario played out. While he is not in the upper echelons of command, he is a valuable resource, whether they intend to ever use his talents or not."

"It has been my wish for many years," Captain Spock said, "to leave the High Command. I believe that the Surakkians will find my help invaluable in their war against them."

"We've been working to get him off that ship, for quite a while," Lovick admitted. "Now, he can 'die' in the VHC's service, and we can get him across the Neutral Zone in the same way we've been smuggling the dilithium."

"But the Halkans?" Bones said. His golden contact lens glinting in the dim light. "You've _used_ their failure to produce dilithium as bait? Won't the VHC take it out on them?"

"You are?" Captain Spock asked, looking at Bones with speculation.

" _Doctor_ McCoy."

" _Doctor_. Lovick and his people were _not_ the cause of the murders of the Halkan High Council three years ago," Captain Spock told them. "Neither was the _Vakh Art'u._ The Halkans are at risk of VHC interference as long as their world contains dilithium. Unfortunately, it has become clear that within the next few years, their mines will, in actual fact, be played out. Even though the VHC believes otherwise.

"We have only moved the timetable up, where the VHC will try to force the Halkans to produce dilithium they can no longer mine. In fact, my original orders were to purge the population upon arrival, so a new group of miners could be brought in. I was able to gain the Halkans a few days reprieve."

"But," Bones said, " _you_ may get to safety, and they _may_ think you're dead, but the Halkans will be left to the VHC's wrath when they come back for more dilithium. They'll be back in danger again."

"I don't think so, Bones," Jim said. He saw a pleased smile form on Lovick's face at his words. "They're going to ruin the crystals that exist. Even those not yet mined. Render them useless. Then blame it on a Klingon attack. That's why the Klingon ship fired on the Council building. It's the _Klingon's_ that have spied, attacked, and poisoned the well. The Halkans will be listed as just another VHC planet ruined by Klingon attack.

"With no good dilithium to mine, there's no reason for the VHC to commit more time or effort into guarding this planet. It has nothing else they want. And, eventually, the Surakkians make a play for this section of the galaxy. Move that Neutral Zone over to include the Halkans, by negotiation or force."

"If we are able," Lovick admitted. "It is all a gamble, after all."

"And you are correct," Captain Spock said. "The war is going very badly for the High Command, and it will soon grow too much for them to continue without letting many systems go to their enemies. The Halkans will not be worth fighting for."

"And how are you going to ruin the dilithium?" Uhura asked.

"A set of subterranean EMP bombs?" Jim asked.

Lovick nodded. "They are even now being employed."

"What's an EMP bomb?" Bones asked.

"An Electromagnetic Pulse bomb," Lovick said. "The pulses damage all electrical equipment, power grids, and delicate electronics. Most tech has safeguards and shielding to protect it. But not the raw materials. Set off deep at the end of the mines, the explosions will not collapse the tunnels, but will reverberate along the veins that are likely to contain dilithium and shatter them all. They'll be useless."

"And mining them will then be pointless," Captain Spock added. "Halkan will then be left to itself. Not worth the resources it would take to protect or exploit it."

"With the hope that someday, becoming a part of our brotherhood," Lovick added.

"What about the Sub-Commander, and the Inquisitors?" Uhura asked. "If they've seen or heard anything that could lead the VHC to believe that Captain Spock is not dead, there could still be repercussions."

"The Inquisitors are no more," Captain Spock said. "They will not be reporting anything."

Jim looked at Lovick with surprise. "You killed them?"

"No," Captain Spock said with a look that Jim would have sworn was one of frustration. "Lovick has dissuaded me from doing so. They will be taken to the Surakkian Union with me, as per Lovick's request. They might have useful information I would not be privy to. As far as the High Command is concerned, they were killed with me. And you need not worry about the fate of the Pavel Chekov in our universe. The High Command will receive no report on the prisoner's identity. I have made sure of that."

"Not your first choice of how to handle the Inquisitor situation?" Jim asked.

"No." Spock gave Lovick a hard look. Lovick only smiled and shrugged back. "I have been informed that to adapt to the Surakkian philosophy, I must begin now. Though it pains me to be merciful to these two, it must now be my way to bestow mercy when I can."

"And the Sub-Commander?" Jim asked, curious.

Hendorff, who'd been quiet all this time, spoke up. "He'll be found in the rubble, damaged and unconscious, but alive. Along with me. I will personally vouch that I saw the Captain and the Inquisitors hit by the first blast of phaser fire. Nothing of them survived. When the _Vakh Art'u_ returns from chasing the Klingon ship off, the Sub-Commander will automatically become the Captain of the _Vakh Art'u_."

"As to his future in the VHC..." Lovick said with a frown. "We shall see. We have hopes of persuading Sub-Commander... _Captain_ Kirk to our cause. Hendorff will be our eyes and ears concerning him. We have some technology that may enable Kirk to strike out for us, from behind the High Command's walls. Those losses of life, I am sorry to say, may well be needed for the greater good."

Lovick's comm went off, and he walked down the hall to answer it. He came back, looking anxious.

"The _Vakh Art'u_ has pulled out of orbit," Lovick announced, "and is chasing the Klingon ship to the Neutral Zone. The Third-in-Command will not have the authority to enter that area. They will soon return to see to their Captain. Spock must leave now, and I must prepare for the next steps in this political ballet. Your people should be clear to decloak and beam you up, Captain, if they can do so quickly. Very quickly. I would advise you leave the area as soon as you can."

Lovick walked up to Jim and held out his hand. " _Good_ partings, _Captain_ Kirk, to you and your people. I hope your young man fares well. Best wishes on your return home."

Jim shook Lovick's hand. "And good luck to you."

Then as Lovick, Captain Spock, Hendorff and the rest of the rebels left the room, Jim flipped open his comm. He called Spock to come and pick them up, warning him to watch out for another cloaked ship in the area. If he could figure out how.

"Well, I guess that answers our question about the existence of a cloaking device in this universe," Jim said to Bones and Uhura. "We now know the Surakkians have the technology, and the Vulcan High Command doesn't."

Jim mentally was counting down the few minutes before Spock could get the _Defiant_ over their spot. "If they did have that technology, they'd have put some measures into place to protect against such tactics. They didn't, so they must not know what the Surakkians have."

"I hope they use the technology well," Uhura said with a sigh as she looked down at Chekov, who was clearly still out of it. "That kind of advantage doesn't come along very often."

"I have a feeling they have plans," Jim said. "Lots and lots of plans. Almost a shame we won't know how it works out."

_If we're lucky, we'll never know. We'll be safely home._

Bones reached up to his own eye and made Jim wince as he took the golden contact out. Bones shook his head after it was removed and blinked frantically. It was a relief for Jim, as well as Bones, to have it gone. That wound still looked nasty, though.

"This is going to drag on for years," Bones said. "We probably wouldn't live long enough to see the ending, even if we're stuck here. _Two_ cloaked ships in orbit, and one in plain sight? Lucky we weren't all running into each other."

Bones took out a medical scanner to run over Chekov. He still looked unconscious to Jim.

"That _would_ have been messy," Uhura agreed.

"That, I don't even want to think about," Jim said. A small light blinked on his comm. "We're beaming."

And in a moment, they were rematerializing on the _Defiant_. A Medteam was waiting to take Chekov's gurney away, followed by Bones.

Jim held his comm back up to his mouth. "We're home, Spock. Get us to the Enterprise. Now."

 

***

 

 

 

Sub-Commander Kirk woke up, tied to a chair, in a dim and dirty room. He could hear commotion outside, as if a whole city were under attack. Beside him, lying on the floor was his guard, Hendorff. The man was dirty and scratched, and had a knot on his forehead, framed by clotted blood.

 _I've been captured!_ Kirk thought, testing his bonds to see if they held. _I have to get loose! They try to trade me to the Captain, for mercy or a reward of some kind, I'm as good as dead._

He remembered beaming down, then a fraction of a second of memory wavered in his mind.

_Duplicates? Do they have Duplicates of us?_

His struggles only lasted a moment, before Captain Spock strode through the door.

"Captain! If you can get me loose--"

"We need to talk," Captain Spock said, walking up to him, hands folded behind his back. "We do not have much time."

"Talk?" Kirk asked, feeling stupid and fearful of Spock seeing it. "I don't... understand."

"I am defecting," Captain Spock said, almost casually. "I am to be dead to the Vulcan High Command. Killed by phaser in the first attack, along with both Inquisitors. Once the _Vakh Art'u_ returns from chasing off the fleeing Klingon attack ship, you _could_ be Captain."

"Could?" Kirk asked, shaking his head. He stared at the Vulcan. "Hard to be Captain if I'm _dead_. You wouldn't be telling me all this and leave me around to swear otherwise."

"I believe that we may strike a mutually beneficial deal, between the two of us," Spock said. "I know that you have yearned to be Captain. You would be useless as a Sub-Commander if you didn't have the desire to advance. In addition to that, am I in error in believing that you chafe under VHC rule?"

Something twisted in him, the answer seemingly so obvious for any Human born and raised under the VHC. He spat out his answer.

"I _hate_ it. I _hate_ that it took my father and brother. I _hate_ being thought of as a sub-species! _None_ of you are as superior as you want to believe you are. You _never_ have been."

Jim grinned, feeling a huge weight lifted from his chest.

_He'll probably kill me now. But I don't care. Just to have felt free enough to say the words. Even just once... it's the most freedom I've ever had!_

"Just so," Spock said. He took a step closer. "And yet, you would Captain a ship of the High Command, because the need to do so drives you. Yet... would it not suit your purpose to Captain a pirate ship?"

Kirk froze at the idea.

_It's a trap. He's trying to trap me into saying something. I don't know what it is he's looking for... but what the hell._

Kirk smiled at him. "I'd _love_ to. Kick some High Command ass. Why, do you have an extra pirate ship where you're going? Offering to take me?"

"No, but I am offering you an opportunity to take down the High Command, from the inside. Unless you'd rather we end you here and put our duplicates in charge of the _Vakh Art'u_ in your place. You saw them. So, the decision is yours. Agree to my terms, and you may yet live to Captain the _Vakh Art'u_ yourself."

Kirk blinked, trying to process the information.

_He's defecting. He's got connections. People behind the scenes. If they really have the ability to make convincing duplicates, he wouldn't suggest this if he didn't need me. I'd be dead already. So, I must be of some value to him. Maybe... maybe he's serious._

"What are your conditions?" Kirk asked suspiciously.

"Swear to my disintegration. Encourage your guard to do the same. He is loyal to you, and would do so for your sake. Take command of the ship," Spock said almost casually, watching Kirk closely. "Save the Halkans. Find a reason to be merciful, and make the High Command accept it. Then fill the _Vakh Art'u_ with people you trust. Remove those who would impede you. Weaken the High Command, and find a way to take them down, from behind their own walls."

"And how do I do that?" Kirk asked with a smirk. "It's not like I have any connections to get close enough to anyone in real power."

"There is a way. You could make them disappear. From a distance."

Kirk sobered up fast as he saw Spock's expression.

_Whatever he's saying, he believes it. There's always been rumors, about how those most set against him disappear. Maybe it's true._

"How?" Kirk asked.

"Take Command of the _Vakh Art'u_ ," Spock said. "Make it your own. Then, when you're ready to begin hitting the High Command, to accelerate their downfall in ways they cannot trace, I will send word to you of a device that can ease your way. But you _must_ keep command of the _Vakh Art'u_. You lose that, you become powerless. Interested?"

Kirk studied Captain Spock for a minute. All his anger, frustration, and humiliation at the life he'd been forced to lead, the disgust at his Humanity, the asses he'd kissed, and the sex that he'd been forced into to make rank... all bubbled up inside him.

_What have I got to lose? As long as I **get** the ship, **my** ship, I'll have already won. But to be able to take revenge on the High Command, help end their rule of suppression and tyranny? _

Even with a Captaincy, he'd still be their slave. Treated even worse than Spock had been.

_Years of orders that only profit them. Punishments for failures that weren't my fault. No recognition of successes I'd damned well earned. I've never considered what it would be like after finally getting that chair. I'd have even less freedom than I have now._

How happy could he stay, knowing that he'd achieved everything he could ever accomplish under Vulcan rule?

_I think... I think I'd rather rule in whatever hell comes afterwards, even on the run with a stolen ship, than serve in the Vulcan's version of Heaven._

Kirk nodded. "Fine. I accept. You're _dead_ , and I saw you die. I'll attest to that. And I'll save the Halkans. I'll find a way."

Spock nodded. "Then I will take my leave of you, _Captain_ Kirk. I will be in touch."

Spock then pulled out a phaser, and the last thing Kirk saw was the blast that hit him. A stun or a kill shot, he didn't know.

He'd always liked surprises.

 

***

 

 

Leonard McCoy stood by the Command chair on the _Defiant_ , eyes on the Tholian filament that seemed to float in space ahead of them. Everyone else only had eyes on their boards, getting ready for the next part of the trip home.

He knew that Scotty had replaced the cracked dilithium crystals in both ships and had the spares ready to go. Both ships had a healthy biomass for the recyclers, which had been tested out in the last few hours, to everyone's relief. The rations and produce had been divvied up and were ready for use. The 'tent city' in the Galley area had been packed up, to keep everything from becoming projectiles with turbulence. No one was sleeping through this. And the Rec Room rechecked to make sure the bodies of the _Defiant_ crew were tucked in tight for what might be a rough trip home.

McCoy had even had time to tend to his facial wounds. He didn't have time to make them totally disappear, but M'Benga could take care of that later.

They had split the crews up more evenly, so that the _Defiant_ crew had more backup than they did before. And the helm felt strange, with Chekov tucked away in the Enterprise's MedBay. McCoy had counteracted the hallucinogen in his system, started knitting the finger bones. They'd transferred the still unconscious man to the Enterprise. But Chekov's mental condition would have to be addressed, and quickly. One of the reasons he'd had Chekov transferred to the Enterprise was so the kid could feel safe at home and be kept away from McCoy and Uhura both.

_He's been tortured, by someone with our faces. I want to make sure he's got a good hold on reality before he sees us again. I don't want him flashing back to his torture when we're around. We'll need to give him some time. M'Benga's good at that. He'll know when to give the okay._

_I just hope we get past this and give us all time to relax._

In the eight-hour trip back to the rift's location, a lot had been done. Now, with a last-minute system's check, McCoy could see how nervous everyone was. That was good, up to a point. Kept everyone sharp and focused on their jobs. Unless you were the CMO, or the Captain, when you just had to fiddle through those last minutes, waiting for the time to set things in motion.

McCoy could tell that Jim wanted nothing more right at the moment than to get up and pace. Look over everyone's shoulder. Micromanage. Instead, Jim was sitting back, pretending to be relaxed, but cracking his knuckles.

_Okay, that's a new habit. I'll have to find a way to nip that in the bud really quickly, or it'll drive me violently insane. Too bad there's no time to duck out and give the kid a blow job. That'd keep us both busy and out of everyone's hair._

Which reminded him of Jim's unspoken fantasies, about sex in his Command chair on the Enterprise, that were never going to happen. And that reminded McCoy of that new area on the _Enterprise_ that they'd only used once.

That led to thoughts of how much he missed the _Enterprise_ and his own cabin. Having his own drawers and their shared kitchen. He felt homesick for his bonsai and hearing Jim play the guitar. Sex without someone in a tent right next to them, which neither of them had wanted to initiate on the _Defiant_. To be able to cuddle all night, and not just until the hardness of sleeping bags on the floor and their weariness had them separating for actual sleep. How he was itching to be back in his own MedBay, where things were arranged the way he liked them, and he didn't feel haunted by memories of the dead.

 _She's a good ship, the Defiant._ McCoy thought. _She's just not **ours**. Hopefully, they do something safe and constructive with that thing in her gut and find her another crew. As much as Jim trusts Sulu with the Enterprise, he can't wait to take her back. But even if we escape all this, there's still the trek home with two ships. With Jim's priority being the Defiant. He'll have to stay here until it's turned over to the Federation. Or destroyed._

_Let's get this started, one way or another! It's about time!_

Which reminded him of something he'd wanted to ask Jim. Maybe a question or two would stop the knuckle cracking.

"Jim?"

"Bones?" Jim responded, looking up at him.

"What about the time differences?"

Jim frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When we were trying to get the _Defiant_ out of the rift that first time, it was only minutes for us, but hours for Sulu," McCoy explained. "Does that mean we've been gone a lot longer on this side of the rift than only sixteen days? And we had that time stuck in the rift itself."

"Oh, yeah," Jim said, sitting up straighter in his chair, now that he actually had something to focus on. "Spock and I talked about that. There's just no telling. Just because our universes may be within spitting distance with a shared rift, doesn't mean time moves at the same speed, or in the same way. This universe and ours may be synced up, and the rift run fast. Or be off by years or months.

"Uhura said that the calendars the Vulcan High Command use are based on Vulcan dates, which may not have any counterpart in our culture to compare them to. Stars and galaxies age slowly, so they're no help when it comes to measuring short periods of time. Plus, there's all that extra matter in their universe, where ours is empty... Spock thinks this universe and ours are pretty close. But traveling through the rift messes us up."

"Don't tell me we'll come out before we even got to the rift!" McCoy said with a huff. "I hate time travel."

"Not going to promise, one way or the other," Jim said with a shake of his head. "First, we get home safe, then we'll deal with any time discrepancies. We'll have to. Going back into the rift to adjust our time of arrival back home to a better one won't work if we don't have any way to measure, or understand, what's really going on."

"Well, I think I'm sorry I asked," McCoy said, suddenly concerned. "Now I'm going to worry about _that_ , thank you very much."

"You're welcome. Always glad to help you keep busy," Jim said with a slight smile.

"Captain, the Enterprise is hailing us," Uhura announced.

"Put Sulu on," Jim ordered, suddenly all business.

"Captain," Sulu said, his face appearing on the viewscreen. "All systems are good to go. Awaiting your word."

Jim looked over at Spock, who stood at his station with his hands behind his back.

"All departments have reported in," Spock said. "We are ready as well."

"Let's go home, everyone," Jim said with a smile as he hit his chair comm. "Scotty, get the engines ready for a quick ramp up to warp four. Let's not try to break these new crystals with anything faster. Are you prepared for a quick switch-out to the spares?"

"Already mounted on both ships, Captain," Scotty said. "It'd take a few minutes, but not many."

"Spock? What about the cloaking device? You ready to operate it?"

"It should function well," Spock said. "I do believe our test of it while over Halkan proved to be informative."

"All right. Sulu same as before. Set the Enterprise under the _Defiant_ , and we'll set tractor beams on each other and the filament. Turn on the cloaking device, and make sure you're in range as well. Then on my mark we both hit warp four, with Scotty controlling both ship's engines. Once we break through the weakened area of the rift, and follow the filament in, Spock will check our buoy to make sure we're headed in the right direction.

"I've been assured that, logically, if we don't disconnect from the filament we won't get turned back around. If he finds us heading in the wrong direction, he'll push the panic button. Sulu? If that happens, you release tractors and veer away from us and the thread. We'll do the same. Then gather back together, facing the right way, check to see if either ship needs the spare crystals, and make another attempt once set up again. Spock says he's got..."

Jim looked at Spock.

"At warp four, approximately four seconds."

"A leisurely four seconds to find the buoy, read its broadcast and push the panic button," Jim said with an amused smile at Sulu. " _Plenty_ of time. For Mister Spock."

"Aye, Captain," Sulu said with a slight smile in return. "Understood."

"And don't forget our plans for a successful passage!" Jim urged. "We get home, we may be suddenly very, very busy. Let's get in position. Uhura, keep us in contact."

"Aye, Sir."

McCoy once again found an empty chair and strapped in. Red Alert was signaled through both ships, so that everyone could get secure.

It only took a few minutes before Jim was informed of green lights across the boards of both ships.

Finally, the moment was at hand.

"Scotty? Full warp, up to warp four as quickly as you can, both ships. Five, four, three, two, one."

McCoy didn't feel the ship move. From nothing to warp four didn't faze a working Starship, or they'd constantly be thrown around. But he did see the filament seem to twist on-screen as they move down its length, the bright, glowing tubes inside seeming to twist and turn as they sped up.

What he did see was the end of the filament coming their way at a tremendous speed.

He closed his eyes at the last second, so didn't see them pass into the rift once again. But he felt it. It was like jumping off a cliff and speeding right along until you hit water, and it jerked you down to a very dead stop.

 _Four,_ he mentally counted down Spock's four seconds, his eyes still shut. _Three, two, one._

He must have counted a bit fast, as the second shock wave of 'hitting' something came a bit after his countdown.

_No alarm! Have we made it through?_

"Sulu! Stay attached to us! Release the filament!"

When McCoy opened his eyes, it was to a see them surrounded by a golden cage. And that cage twisted and turned as the two ships moved as one.

"There is an opening, mark three, three eight!" Spock announced.

"Navigation! Head for it!"

As they turned so that a hole in the golden cage came into sight, McCoy could see just how close the Tholians had been to finishing it. He could also see two ships attached to one of the filaments ends. One Tholian ship rolled by in the distance as the _Defiant_ and the _Enterprise,_ both hidden under the cloaking device, roll toward the opening.

The cage had been damaged, and warped, at some point. The shapes left by the bars of energy no longer looking square and precise.

_Had they stopped building it once we disappeared into the rift? Maybe they tried to work a patch? Afraid of the rift itself? Or that we were coming back?_

Whatever it meant, McCoy's attention was pulled away from the question when the hole in the mess of filaments centered on the viewscreen.

"Scotty! Warp seven!"

_Warp seven, with two ships attached by just a tractor beam? Oh shit!_

He expected the two ships to be ripped apart at such a speed. Before he could even groan with apprehension they were out of the net.

"Rhee! Hard port! Head us toward Federation space!" Jim ordered the navigator.

_Apparently, the hole wasn't quite in the right direction. Are we both still invisible?_

Spock answered his unvoiced question as he reported to Jim.

"No reaction from the Tholian ships," Spock announced. "There are now five. Two trying to repair the containment web, and three on guard outside."

"Captain?" Scotty's worried voice came from the Comm. "We've only got warp seven for a few more minutes, we've _really_ boogered up the two main crystals."

"Back us down to a safe speed," Jim said. "Just make sure the cloaking device stays at full power. We need both ships covered until we're well away from Tholian space."

"We'll be limping at warp one for a while then," Scotty said. "That'll keep the cloak and the engines stable for about thirteen or fourteen more hours."

"You hear that, Sulu?"

"Loud and clear, Captain."

"That's fine, then, Scotty," Jim said. "As soon as we're sure we're out of their scanner range, we'll shut down and give your people those few minutes to switch to the spares. We'll stay connected to each other until we get across the border. Once there, we should be able to turn off the cloaking device, disconnect the ships, and each sail under our own power back to Federation Headquarters. Sulu, you can sign off. I'm sure you have systems to keep an eye on."

"Will do, Captain."

Sulu's face disappeared from the viewscreen.

"Reducing speed, warp six, four, three... now at one," Lieutenant Rhee announced.

"Spock let me know when we're out of their range. I don't want to drop the cloaking device until I'm sure it's safe."

"That should be in four hours, Captain."

"Let Scotty, Sulu, and I know if that changes. Uhura? Are you getting anything from the Federation?"

"I can confirm normal subspace chatter," Uhura said with a huge smile. "All data-packets look normal. Everything checks out. Keeping silent until you order otherwise."

"Navigation? How do the star charts look?"

"Confirmed as a perfect match," Rhee said happily.

Everyone on the Bridge, including McCoy, took a breath.

_Home! Finally!_

"Spock?" Jim asked. "What's the time here? How long do they think we were gone?"

Spock studied his board.

"According to the progress of the broken Tholian containment web, and the dates shown on some of the subspace packets, we have been gone from this universe for three hundred and seven hours, or twelve point seven, nine Federation days."

"Not quite a match," Jim said with a sigh. "Took us two weeks ship's time to get from the rift to the alternate Halkan. We gained a few extra days. I'll take them. Spock keep an eye on everything. I want to go down to Engineering and see how everything is holding up. You have the con.

"Why would the Tholians _still_ be building that web?" McCoy asked Jim as he followed him to the lift. "Were they afraid we'd come back? Wanted to make sure we didn't slink off, like we just did?"

"Maybe," Jim said. "Or it's to keep other ships out of it. We know the Tholians are interested in interdimensional travel. Maybe they're gearing up for their own experiments."

"Bet they're going to be unpleasantly surprised," McCoy said. "Won't they be perturbed to hear about us being out and about again?"

"Honestly, I don't think the Tholians keep that close a track of the Federation," Jim said with a shrug. "They treat all outsiders as a large group they don't want to associate with. And the Federation recommissions ships all the time. This lady isn't even _our_ first _Enterprise_. Maybe they'll notice, someday. But you can bet there's nothing the Federation is going to feel like explaining to them."

"Especially about how the _Defiant_ ended up on their side of the border in the first place," McCoy said. "This cloaking device is going to have the shit hitting the fan if it ever gets out that we have one. Especially one that works."

"Which will give the diplomats something else to work on, I imagine," Jim said with a sigh. "But I have a suspicion, one that Scotty shares, that this device isn't Federation design to start with."

"What? We got it from someone _else_?" McCoy asked worriedly. "Who?"

Even though they were in the lift, Jim lowered his voice. "Scotty's money is on the Romulans."

"Oh, _shit_ ," McCoy said, with feeling.

"Yeah," Jim said with a sigh. "My only worry now is getting the crystals changed out without being seen, and heading out of Tholian space at warp seven. Then, once in our own neighborhood, we need to inform the Federation that we have the _Defiant_ , and what crew we could recover. I'm anxious to turn her over."

Jim leaned closer to him. "I want the _Enterprise_ back."

"We all do, Jim," McCoy said, reaching up to touch Jim's back. "We're all ready to go home."

The lift stopped.

"See you later," Jim said, giving McCoy a tired smile as he left the lift for Engineering. "Maybe even at home, if things work out."

"God, that would be great!" McCoy answered with a smile.

Two other people joined him in the lift as he headed to the MedBay to check in.

 _Just a few hours more, and maybe we really can go home,_ McCoy thought happily.

They just needed a few more hours to get out of Tholian space.

 

***

One week later

***

 

Inquisitor Leonard McCoy awoke feeling hungover and dehydrated. He tried to open one sticky eye, but found it hard. His prosthesis was not working at all.

He stretched, trying to get an idea of where he was. He was in a narrow bed, with clean sheets and the smell of antiseptic in the air.

_MedBay? Hospital? Damn it, what the fuck happened?_

He raised a hand to his face and startled. His prosthesis had been removed.

_What the hell did they do to me? Who the hell--?!_

But it came back to him then, the beam down to Halkan, with Inquisitor Uhura. The Sub-Commander had given his impassioned speech, practically begging the pathetic natives to save themselves. Then the beam up... and something went wrong.

His fingers probed the empty eye socket behind his now-sealed eyelid. His cheek was also now mal-formed, and he could feel shallow ruts under the skin of his temple where connectors and scanners had been removed.

He looked frantically around the small room. It was a two-bed hospital room, definitely not on the ship. There was natural sunlight coming in through two windows.

_Is this Halkan? Oh, fuck **no**. I'm not sitting on this doomed ball of crap any longer than I have to! _

"Hey! Where is everyone?" he yelled, trying to sit up. He realized there were restraints across his torso and legs. The unbreakable kind. The kind he used on his prisoners all the time.

"Someone better get their ass in here, right now, or I'm going to have that ass for breakfast!"

The door slid open, and Captain Spock strode in. But he was dressed in some sort of light-colored, long robes, and his mustache and beard had been shaved. He walked over sedately, his arms crossed and hidden in the voluptuous folds of his sleeves.

"What the...?" He stopped, remembering he had to be respectful. "I mean... Captain? Where am I? What happened? Where's Inquisitor Uhura?"

"You, and Inquisitor Uhura, were taken prisoner by the Surakkian Union," Captain Spock said. "And I am no longer your Captain."

"We were... _what_? How? When?"

"I defected, and instead of killing you, was persuaded to bring you with me. You were both much too dangerous to our plans to leave behind."

McCoy felt himself blinking his good eye in confusion. "We're... Prisoners of War?"

Spock walked closer to McCoy's bed, which gave McCoy the creeps. This wasn't the Captain he knew, was it?

"Technically, to be Prisoners of War the Vulcan High Command would have to think you were still alive. But they do not. Inquisitors Nyota Uhura and Leonard McCoy were killed alongside Captain Spock. There were witnesses to such."

"What?" McCoy's mouth went dry. " _When_ did this happen?"

"One Terran week ago."

"A _week_?" McCoy was floored.

_We could be anywhere in the Surakkian Union! If he's even telling me the truth. If the High Command thinks we're dead... we might as well be._

_Maybe I can bluff my way out. I had power back home, I can build that up again here. They must need someone to do their dirty work, and we excel at that!_

"What are you going to do with us? Where's Uhura?"

"She has just come out of her orientation," Spock said calmly. "She will be here soon. As to your fate, that has been much discussed amongst the Surakkian Union officials. There were several attempts to remove classified information from your minds during a mind meld. But the memories you carry are, frankly, too unsettling and damaged for them to be safe for a healer to access. You have no place whatsoever in the Union. As such, you will be put to good use."

"I have _talents_ , ones you can use," McCoy said with a smile. "We just need to negotiate what --"

"Talents at torture? Interrogation?" Spock asked shaking his head. "This is _not_ the High Command. They have no need for your skills. _After_ punishment for your past war crimes, we shall see to your fate. I believe you and Uhura _do_ have a long record of fatal Interrogation sessions of many captured Surakkians to answer for."

McCoy's stomach roiled as fear flashed through him.

_What am I supposed to do? Whose ass do I kiss or dick do I suck to get out of this?_

"Look, _Spock_ ," McCoy said, licking his lips and trying to stay calm. "I can be of _use_. _Really_ I can. Just get me out of this and I can... I can... I _know_ things about people. I _do_. Things the Union will _want_ to know."

"At the price of your freedom?" Spock shook his head. "I think not. I would have to argue so to the Union Council, and I do not think you worth the effort. Soon, your punishment will be administered. I have come to say goodbye."

"Punishment? Administered?" McCoy started to shake, fear now flooding him. He tried to keep his voice calm. " _What_ sentence? You said I was to be put to good use!"

"You _will_ be," Spock said solemnly, stepping closer until he was looking directly down at McCoy. "You have been sentenced to an Identity Wipe. All your memories will be erased, and you will be trained to do community service, for the rest of your natural life. There are some... side effects I'm afraid."

" _What_? What side effects? And why has my prosthesis been removed?" McCoy asked fearfully.

"Unfortunately, the prosthesis would inhibit the Identity Wipe. And there were too many unknown technical aspects to assume that you couldn't use it to harm someone. After the mind wipe, you will be given a more natural replacement. Its loss will not bother you, as you will have no memory of it."

"No memory?" McCoy asked, his heart pounding faster.

"None at all. Every memory this body contains of one Leonard Horatio McCoy will be erased. You will," Spock said, with what McCoy could almost take to be a smile, "wake up as a new person, with no memory of your past. The new identity will be harmless. Unable to form any harsh or hateful thoughts until your consciousness matures once again. By then you will have been retrained and educated enough to control any harsh and ugly impulses.

"You will be as if you were born that way. And there are many elderly and sick Surakkians, across many planets, that need care. Hospitals that need support staff. Children that need tending and teachers to encourage their growth. There are many public service venues for you to choose from."

"What?" McCoy said in panic. "No, you _can't_ do that. I'd rather be _dead_ than be someone _else!_ "

"There are all indications you will enjoy your new life," Spock said. "Maybe even more than you enjoyed your past vocation."

Just then the door slid open, and McCoy twisted to see the new arrivals. One looked like a nurse, all in white. The other made his heart jump again when he recognized it as Inquisitor Uhura. She was in a wheeled chair and was being steered toward the other bed.

And when she looked at him, she was different. Her hair was down, and she seemed relaxed. A harshness gone from her face. She smiled at him, as if seeing him was the nicest thing that had happened to her all day.

"Hello!" She said in a sing-song voice. "Are you my roommate? I've met Mr. Spock. He's going to help me pick out my future vocation! Isn't that exciting?"

She got out of the chair and hopped onto the other bed. McCoy realized he was staring at her shock.

 _This can't be her!_ McCoy thought, suddenly sick with the fear that this was all true. _Not Uhura! She must be faking it somehow. Playing along._

"Oh, what's happened to your eye? Are you okay?" She looked at the nurse, then at Spock. "Will he be okay?"

The nurse nodded at Spock then left.

"He will be well, after his treatment," Spock assured her. "You should introduce yourself."

"Oh, yes, I forgot," she said with a smile, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her feet off the ground, she swung them back and forth, like a child. "I'm Ugaya. They let me pick it out myself. It's Surakkian for ' _promise'_. I really like it. Do you like it? Mr. Spock says I should be an interpreter. That I have a natural skill that shouldn't go to waste. That sounds wonderful! I think I'd enjoy that."

McCoy stared at her in horror.

_She's gone! She's really gone! They've left her as prey!_

"Your companion has yet to pick out a new name," Spock told her. "When he chooses one, after his procedure, he will be much more inclined to visit with you. His talents lie in the medical field. There are many places that need a doctor. Many clinics in various systems that would welcome such help. Maybe you both will succeed in your new studies. You may even serve together if you wish."

"Oh, that sounds _marvelous!_ " She said happily. "I can't wait to get started!"

Just then, two new nurses came to the door.

Fear like he had never known took McCoy over. His mind raced frantically, trying to find a way out.

"They are ready to pass sentence on the prisoner," one said solemnly. "We have the replacement prosthesis ready as well."

Spock nodded at them to proceed, then reached out to touch a button on the bed's monitor. Suddenly, McCoy's hands were trapped at his side. He tried to thrash, but he couldn't move at all.

The nurses came up to the monitor at the top of the bed, one on each side. They started typing on the monitor, telling the bed what drugs to administer next.

McCoy threw his head back; his fists clenched angrily.

" _No!_ ” McCoy yelled, glaring with all his hate and fear at Spock. "You _can't do that to me_. I am _valuable_ as I _am!_ I _won't_ live like _that_. I _won't_ be a _servant_ to every stinking species that can't let go of the weak and infirm long enough to let them die, as nature intended!"

If there was anything he could have reached, he'd have destroyed it. If he could have gotten out of his restraints, he would have tried to kill them all.

"Since medicine is where some of your strengths lie, I would be surprised if you do not choose it for yourself," Spock said frankly, unmoved by his outburst.

They started to detach the bed from the wall frame and roll him toward the door to the corridor."

"I'd rather be _dead!_ " McCoy yelled, fear making him almost shriek the words. "Just _kill me_ and get it over with! I _won't_ live that way! I won't be a fucking _sheep!_ I'm a gods- _dammed_ wolf! I'll die a _wolf!"_

Then, slowly, the sedative they gave him started to work, sapping his strength and his focus. He knew he was losing it. His eye started to flutter closed, and his limbs all relaxed.

He fought against the incoming tide of oblivion, desperate to hang on.

" _Wolf!_ Damn... it... _Wolf_..."

He slipped into sleep before they reached the end of the corridor.

 

***

 

 

"He seemed so angry. Will he be okay?" Ugaya asked Spock as they watched the ranting man being taken away. Soon, his voice dimmed until they could hear it no longer.

"He will be well once the procedure is finished. He does not want the procedure performed, but he has talents that should not be wasted. Just as you do. I believe he will find his new life rewarding and enjoyable."

"Do you think he'll _want_ to be friends with me?" She asked with concern.

"He may," Spock replied. "You will have to wait and see."

"I don't think he liked me much," she said sadly.

"He was startled by your youth. He will be young once again when he wakes up, and more amiable. As you both learn, and mature, there may be friendship there. If not, you may find many others to be friends with."

She thought about that for a moment.

"Did _you_ undergo the procedure?" she asked.

"Not as such," he admitted. "I fear mine will be a much rougher road to peace and tranquility than yours will be. I have much in my past of which to repent. Many attitude problems to self-adjust."

"Are you sorry about it?"

"No, quite the contrary," Spock said kindly. "I look forward to the struggle. Learning a new way to be, to think, can give one a new goal for one's life. And I have already learned the meaning of an old phrase I never really understood before."

"What's that?"

"It's an old Human saying, one my mother tried to teach me. I think I now have a better insight as to its use in this context."

"Really? What was the phrase?"

" _Killing with kindness_ ," Spock replied. "I look forward to seeing if Lovick would agree with my new view of the phrase. In this instance, I have found a perverse pleasure in applying it to this situation. Much more than I anticipated. Whenever I see Lovick again, we may discuss it."

"He's your friend?"

"Yes," Spock said, surprised at the admission. "My first."

"That's wonderful!" she said with a smile.

"Yes," Spock said, letting himself smile just a little as he turned to leave. "I believe it is."

_The Halkan mines have been rendered barren, as well as any dilithium they may have had yet to find._

_Captain Kirk seems to have taken well to his role as Captain of the Vakh Art'u. He has convinced the High Command that the ship's attention, and firepower, is better spent on tracking the escaped Klingon ship than destroying the Halkan homeworld. For now, the Halkans are safe. The High Command no longer has a reason to bother with them, and will soon forget them as other problem areas crop up._

_And Kirk has confirmed, with Hendorff's backing, the death of myself and the Inquisitors. So far, he has done what he must to earn my trust._

_To a point._

After the procedure and orientation for McCoy was finished, and their new lives begun, Spock would send a message to Hendorff.

Hendorff would then be free to inform Kirk of the Tantalus Field hidden in the rooms that Kirk now occupied as Captain. Spock had set the device to open to Kirk's DNA and his thumbprint. Once opened by the new owner, a vid would explain to Kirk what it was, its limitations, and how it could be used.

Then it would be up to Kirk to create what havoc he wished on the Vulcan High Command. Spock was sure that it would be very entertaining to watch from a distance.

And if Kirk ever became a threat to the Surakkian Union?

Well, then the self-destruct feature, that would take out half of the ship, would come in very handy. Especially since the signal could be sent by any ship close enough to trigger it. And the Surakkian Union still had many allies inside the VHC.

He did trust Kirk to indulge himself, wisely. But that trust only extended so far.

He knew Kirk too well not to have a backup plan.

 

***

 

 

Doctor Leonard McCoy stood at the top of the Jefferies tube, now off duty and in civilian clothes. He palmed the door to the Elf Storage room. It slid open, and McCoy heard the soft sounds of Jim's guitar before he saw him.

Jim was alone, also in civvies, sitting on the floor in the middle of the long, narrow room. His back up against the lockers. The lights were dim but not off, and the rain of stars at warp rained down on the other side of the viewport. McCoy couldn't remember the name of the song, but knew that Jim had originally found it too slow and melancholy, and had moved on to something brighter and happier. But that was before their trip through the rift.

It was a somber time for everyone. After a week at top speed, they'd finally rendezvoused with three other Starships led by Commodore Wesley, with the replacement crew for the _Defiant_. Jim had relinquished command of the ship, supervised the return of his crew, and had been huddled in various meetings aboard the _USS Lexington_ for hours.

McCoy had supervised the turn-over of the CMO's position on the _Defiant_ to another Doctor, so that the records could be accessed by Starfleet. All the records were in such a mess that McCoy could only wish them well on unraveling that knot of yarn in the future. Then they had all sat in silence on the bridge while watching the _Defiant_ and her crew be taken home, flanked by her honor guard.

The Enterprise's full crew was home, and soon they'd get their next assignment. But, for some reason, McCoy felt there should have been more. They'd had a small memorial service on their way back to Federation space. McCoy could only assume that they'd made such a long trip with the _Defiant's_ crew, it would take them all a bit to really say goodbye.

"I'm the first?" McCoy asked, keeping his voice low. He stepped in and the door slid shut behind him.

Jim smiled, but didn't look up as he continued playing. "The first, and last, owner of my heart."

"Okay, stupid question, but damned good answer." McCoy smiled as he came over to sit next to Jim on the carpeted floor. "How're you doing after all those meetings? Have we been properly threatened into silence?"

"Same old tune." Jim strummed another chorus of that song McCoy couldn't remember. "Everything classified, top level. All our computer records of the incident turned over, and our own records wiped. Lectures about the need for secrecy and discretion. How important no word of this gets out. We all get more orders in our files, not to discuss the incident. We never contradict whatever lie they'll tell about the _Defiant_... Blah, blah, blah."

"Same old thing then," McCoy agreed. He sighed. "You think all the other crews, on all the other ships, carry as many secrets as we do?"

"Yes," Jim admitted, as he continued playing. "And that's what worries me."

"Admiral Roberts still on the warpath? She must be livid about them all trying to block her like that."

"Yes. But I think now that she's got a bigger picture of what they were hiding from her, she may do a bit of digging on her own," Jim said. "She was pissed that she, and we, weren't told what was really going on. I think that there's going to be a showdown between her and some of the others when it comes to giving us information we need to know."

"Good luck to her," McCoy said with feeling. "Nice to know she still has our back. As much as she can."

When the _Enterprise_ and the _Defiant_ had left Tholian space, they had contacted Starfleet as soon as possible. The replies had been almost instantaneous from the _Lexington._ It was already on its way with two other ships. From what McCoy could gather, Admiral Roberts had sent in backup for the _Enterprise_ , in spite of them being told none was coming. The three ships would now accompany the _Defiant_ home instead of coming to the _Enterprise's_ rescue.

All of which spoke to McCoy about how Roberts must have thrown one holy hell of a fit to get it for them. Especially since they now knew why some in Starfleet wanted the _Defiant's_ original orders buried, but not forgotten. Not if they could get the ship and the cloaking device to study now. _And_ all the new records of how it worked in that alternate universe. _And_ the fact that there was at least one alternate universe they had a back door to, even if it was in someone else's back yard.

Now that a _lot_ of people knew about it, and the forbidden tech, McCoy figured that the whole mess would disappear for a while, as those in the background did a happy dance at all the new information.

But that didn't mean it wouldn't pop up again.

"Any problems with the Tholians?" McCoy asked.

"They're not being told we actually escaped," Jim said, "since then the Tholians might wonder how we snuck out of the rift without them seeing us. I imagine if it needs to be explained, we found another weak spot and came out in our space."

Jim shrugged slightly. "The Tholians seem content that we're gone, and aren't pushing the issue. We don't want a war, they don't want a war, so we'll just pretend nothing happened."

"That's going to be really convenient for some people back home," McCoy said. "But I guess if it works, it works."

"It's not like we need another war, conflict, or continuing hostilities," Jim said. He sighed and struck a sad chord. "I just wish we could have been in time to save them."

"Space is huge, Jim," McCoy said. "We can only do what we can do."

They were both quite for a moment. Jim's unsettledness echoed in the sad, and sometimes misplayed, chords of the song haunting his mind. McCoy tried not to remember the bodies he'd found in MedBay. It was like being told not to think about the pink elephant in the room. Those images were going to stay with him for a long while.

"Did you get the last of your stuff out of your old cabin?" Jim asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah, there was just some trashy items I needed to clean out and give it one more good sweep. M'Benga should be able to move into it, any time now."

"Given that he's not the CMO, and gets to move into the CMO cabin, I'll bet he'll be pretty happy with the extra space," Jim said. "You sure you're not going to miss it?"

"I'm sure. I like this space a lot," McCoy said with a shrug. "Much better view, even if it's a bit much for me at times."

The door buzzed.

"Enter," Jim said.

They both watched as Spock and Uhura entered the room. They were also in civilian clothing, with Spock in his usual, thickly woven Vulcan style, and Uhura in a long, flowing sundress like the ones she favored on Risa.

Spock had seen the room before, but Uhura hadn't. Jim and McCoy both watched as her eyes lit up at the sight just outside the ship.

"Oh, _my_ ," Uhura said softly. She reached out and touched the transparent wall. "Spock was right. This really is a beautiful space."

"It is... visually pleasing," Spock said.

Uhura laughed softly, stroking her hand down the wall. "I've always had the urge to reach out and touch the viewports. I know people do, once in a while in the gym. But you just don't do _that_ on the Bridge."

McCoy huffed. "You and Jim, can't keep your hands to yourself."

Jim smiled, as did Uhura. But her smile soon faded, and she looked concerned.

"Is he on his way?" Uhura asked as she and Spock come over to sit on the other side of Jim. Her eyes were on McCoy. Spock sat next to her. "Is he feeling better?"

"We got Chekov's burns and his fingers fixed," McCoy said with a sigh. "We kept him an extra day or so to make sure the drugs they gave him all got flushed out. We didn't want them giving him any flashbacks alone, in his cabin, while his roommate was working. Or should I say, M'Benga did."

"He still doesn't want to talk to us?" Uhura asked, frowning.

"Not me, anyway," McCoy admitted. "There's still that... hesitancy."

Uhura sighed. "Yes, I know."

While Chekov had been physically healing, McCoy had noticed Chekov had a reluctance to meet McCoy's eyes.

McCoy thought he understood the problem. He looked like the man who'd tortured him, and Uhura... McCoy had no doubt both Inquisitors had been involved. M'Benga administered to the kid whenever he could. But what really bothered McCoy was Chekov's reserved behavior around Uhura. When she'd come to visit, Chekov would pull back into himself, and try to cut the visits short.

McCoy knew that she understood what was going on, but she ached over it.

The kid just wasn't the same. Maybe he never would be.

"Scotty's bringing him around," Jim said. He stopped playing and patted his guitar. "Sulu should be here soon as well."

When Scotty and Sulu had both come to him and Jim with their concerns, they decided that maybe they all needed to touch base with Chekov.

_I hope this isn't a mistake. Pushing him too hard. At least Jim and the others agree that maybe we need a bit of private time together. All of us._

The door buzzed again, and Sulu arrived. His clothing wasn't just civilian, but almost blindingly bright with its clash of colors.

"Hey," Sulu said, coming over to sit with them in the middle of the floor, his back to the other end of the hallway. "How's it going?"

"Just waiting on Chekov and Scotty," Jim said. He smiled at Sulu. "You going into withdrawal yet, over losing your Captaincy?"

Sulu grinned. "Not yet. I could get used to the job, though. But, honestly, I look forward to a ship of my own one day. The _Enterprise_ gets a bit snippy when you're not the one in charge."

Jim, McCoy, and Uhura chuckled at that.

"I'll have a word with her, make her behave next time," Jim said.

"Let's _not_ have a next time," McCoy said. "No offense, Hikaru."

"None taken," Sulu said with a smile as he held up his hands. "I can't say I enjoy the chair when I'm sitting and waiting on _other_ people to get things done. It'll make me grey faster than it did Jim."

Jim smiled, wiping his hand over the grey stripe that had just started to show up well with the new growth. "This is _camouflage_ , so I have an easy place to hide it."

Which reminded McCoy of his own growing collection of grey hairs. There weren't many, but they were there.

"Oh, you  _children_. You're all so adorable at this age," McCoy huffed.

Uhura almost snorted a laugh.

The door buzzed again.

When it opened, Scotty and Chekov were there. Scotty was dressed in jeans and a sweater that was definitely brighter and uglier than Sulu's shirt. Scotty was behind Chekov, a hand on his shoulder. Chekov was in civilian clothes, ones that made him look beaten and worn. McCoy knew he wasn't sleeping well. Not even once they'd started for home at top speed, safe and sound.

_Who can blame him? He's got to process what he's been through. Find a way to deal with it and move on. He'll be starting therapy over sub-space in a few days. Hopefully, that'll help._

"Ah!" Scotty exclaimed happily. "There ye all are. I believe we're expected at this private party?"

"Absolutely," Jim said with a smile. "Come on in, Pavel. Scotty."

But Chekov probably didn't even hear them. His first expression was one of pleasure and wonder as he, like Uhura, went up to touch the wall.

"Da, it is as you described," Chekov said to Scotty. "Better than the Bridge's viewscreen."

"And you can _touch_ it," Jim said. Chekov turned to look at him. "Just like we're _not_ supposed to do on the Bridge. That just seems to make the stars feel a tiny bit closer."

"Still too close for me," McCoy grumbled. He almost sighed when Chekov seemed to ignore him. McCoy traded glances with Uhura, who'd caught that as well.

"Want to come and join us, Pavel?" Jim said.

Chekov seemed to stiffen.

"We just want to talk to you, for a bit," Scotty said softly, hand once again on Chekov's shoulder.

Chekov nodded and came to sit down next to Spock, in the middle of the hall. He kept looking down and moved stiffly. Scotty almost made it a circle with his back to the stars.

It hurt McCoy to watch. He felt like he should leave and give the kid some room. Glancing at Uhura, he could tell she felt the same.

"Pavel," Jim said quietly when he and Scotty had settled. "I'm going to say, up front, that I don't have any real idea of what happened to you back there. I know what you _reported_. I know what Uhura and Bones _reported_. But that's not... not really _knowing_."

Jim shook his head. "And maybe Spock could understand, with a mind meld, but it wouldn't really be the same, second hand. We just wanted you to know that we're all here for you. Starfleet. All your friends on the ship. Your co-workers. And us."

Jim smiled at Chekov, who'd barely looked up at him. "I'm not really sure what we are to you. The six of us. _I_ tend to think of us as a... chosen family, who just happens to work together. But I didn't have much family growing up. Bones will tell you I'm pretty quick to adopt people into mine, even if they don't realize it. But I'm _hoping_ you think of us that way as well. I think we all feel that way toward you."

"Absolutely," Scotty said.

"I would agree," Spock said.

"Bro? You know you're part of my family as well," Sulu added.

"I feel the same, Kid," McCoy added gently.

"Oh, Pavel, you must _know_ how I feel about you," Uhura said, her voice almost breaking.

"We're all here for you," Jim said. "We wanted you to know that. You just have to ask, and we'll do our best to help in whatever way we can. Just say the word."

Chekov didn't look up at any of them. He seemed to pull in on himself, wrapping his arms around his knees and pulling them in close. McCoy could see Chekov's eyes grow wet.

"Then... then..." Chekov's voice broke as he took a ragged breath. "But you... you don't know that I may not have been truthful in my report."

McCoy blinked in surprise at the admission. He traded confused glances with Jim.

"Pavel?" Sulu said, his voice soft and full of concern. "What happened? It's okay. It's just us here."

"In my report," Chekov said, dread on his face. "My _official_ report. I did not put down all of it."

He took a big breath, then sat up straight and looked at Jim. The determination to say what he needed to say clear on his face.

"I did not remember at first," Chekov admitted, flushing a bit. "But a few days after I woke up, on the _Enterprise,_ I started to remember more. I knew that I had somehow failed. It was bothering me, because I could not remember the details. But more memory comes back, and I realize that... that I told them _everything_."

 _Guilt?_ McCoy thought in surprise. _Has this all been about him feeling guilty? Ashamed? All this time, and he's been carrying that around by himself?_

Jim sat forward, arms draped across the top of his guitar. McCoy and the rest also leaned forward a bit.

"Pavel," Jim began gently. "You had a rough time. You were _drugged_ and _tortured_. I can understand not remembering for a while. Who'd want to? None of that was your fault."

"But it could have gotten you _killed!_ " Chekov protested. He wiped at watering eyes. "It was my job to _protect_ you. To be quiet and _not_ say anything. And I told them _everything_. The _Defiant_ could have been discovered in orbit. Both ships could have been _lost!"_

"Wait! Whoa!" McCoy said, feeling confused. He looked at Uhura, who looked just as lost. "Pavel, _who_ did you tell all this to?"

"The _Inquisitors_ ," Pavel said forlornly. "After they started burning me, I did not talk. But then they gave me the drugs, and I... I told them _everything_. I failed in my training. I _failed_ \--"

" _No!_ No that's not true!" Uhura insisted. "Pavel, you didn't tell them _anything!_ "

"I _did!_ " Pavel said. "I _now_ remember--"

"Pavel," McCoy interrupted loudly, but kindly. He needed the kid's attention. " _Listen_ to me, okay?"

Chekov took a deep breath and nodded. He was still reluctant to look at McCoy.

"The _facts_ are that Uhura and I switched places with our counterparts to rescue you. We did so successfully. So much so that their computers took our DNA as proof of identity. Once we got to you, and made sure you were alive and stable, we had to make sure to keep others away, and to see what they'd done to you."

McCoy took a deep breath, aware of all eyes on him. "We both _saw_ the records. I read through _all_ of Inquisitor McCoy's personal and professional records and notes pertaining to your interrogation. Uhura read _all_ of her counterpart's notes on you. Which we erased, by the way. And we didn't read them because we didn't _trust_ you, Pavel. We needed to know what they'd _done_ to you."

McCoy shook his head and tried to catch Chekov's eyes.

"Pavel? You _never_ said a _word!_ Once they got you on the ship, you clammed up. You reacted in pain during the torture, but you never said _anything_. And they never _asked_ you anything! They probably _told you_ things while you were on the hallucinogens. Tried to get you to start talking on your own by messing with your mind. Mainly, they were just enjoying the torture. _Both_ of them. They thought they had days, weeks with you. They were just getting things started and prepping you for the next steps."

Chekov looked stunned. He sniffled and swallowed thickly. "But... I remember talking to them. _Saying_ things--"

"You were _drugged_ ," Uhura said.

She reached across Spock and carefully put her hand on Chekov's arm. "They had you on some nasty stuff. Len said so from the start. You were open to suggestion. If they _told you_ that you'd already betrayed us, that you'd already given them what they wanted, you were in no position to disbelieve them."

"Your own mind would have filled in the rest," McCoy said gently. "Given you memories that weren't real. They wanted you upset, thinking you'd broken. Part of their torture."

Chekov blinked several times, and he looked like he wasn't sure he believed them.

"Kid?" McCoy said gently. "I'm telling you the God's honest _truth_ here. No lie to make you feel better. No coddling. No being nice. You _didn't_ tell them a damned thing. You _didn't_ fail at anything."

"I can show you their official reports, if you need to see them," Jim said, shaking his head. He looked straight at Chekov.

"Honestly," Jim continued, "it wouldn't matter to me if you had. Pavel, you and I are _Human_. There are things Starfleet expects of us, and things we expect of ourselves. I think we're a lot harder on ourselves than Starfleet is. Starfleet puts rules on us because we need to get a job done. But the rules we put on ourselves are to save our co-workers, our friends, and family. Our way of life. But we are not unbreakable. None of us are. If you had told them everything, I wouldn't have held it against you. I would hope that if the situation was reversed, you'd be able to forgive me if I couldn't stand the torture. As for what _did_ happen?"

Jim leaned forward, his eyes glued to Chekov's. "I'm _proud_ to have you on this ship, and I trust you with my _life_. Then and now. You've _earned_ that. A dozen times over."

Chekov seemed relieved, but still a bit stunned to realize that what he'd believed happened, hadn't.

"Pavel," Sulu said gently. "Either way, you did your best. What _else_ can any of us do, but that?"

"Ya did _fine_ , Lad," Scotty said, leaning over to give Chekov a shoulder bump. "You have nae reason to put yourself down."

"None of us are without faults," Spock said. "Nor are we without weaknesses. There is no shame in being less than perfect. It is part of who we are."

"Kid, you can have my back _any_ day," McCoy added.

Chekov looked overwhelmed. He nodded and blinked rapidly, trying to control his emotions. He locked his eyes on his hands in his lap, his fingers interlocked and his right thumb massaging the base of his left.

" _Good_ ," Chekov said thickly. He tried to smile and look around at them all. "That ees very _good_ , then."

"What say I play something nice," Jim said, patting the guitar, "and we enjoy the view. Anyone up for dinner afterward? Officer's mess? _I'm_ buying!"

McCoy snorted, Sulu grinned, Spock raised an amused eyebrow, and Uhura smiled.

"Such a _big_ spender, considering its all free!" Scotty said with amusement. "But after all those weeks of rations, I'm up for as much _real_ food as I can get."

"And I hear..." Jim added with a smile. "That a huge data-packet of mail arrived this morning. Sulu has more pictures of Demora to flash around. I believe we all have some news of home to share."

"I'm in," Sulu said with a grin and a nod. "Can't wait to show you all Demora's last recital! She's getting really great at the cello. And her grades! Well, you'll all see."

"Nyota and I have no other plans," Spock said after glancing at Uhura and getting her nod. "I also have news of New Vulcan and my father."

"And that cousin I told you all about?" Uhura added with a smile. "Wait until you hear what she's done now!"

"I'll come along. Just to pad the bill, mind you," McCoy agreed with a smile. "Although, Jim and I have some new vids of Sam's family. Damn, but kids grow up _faster_ these days."

"And _I_ have the specs of a _new,_ double-level, _streamlined_ impulse engine power source just released by TippSum. With _vids_!" Scotty said excitedly as he glanced around at them all. "Which, I believe, will be adopted by Starfleet within the year! Wait 'til ye _see_ those curves!"

"Scotty!" McCoy exclaimed with pretend shock. "No _porn_ at the dinner table!"

"Ack, _well_ ," Scotty said with a mock frown at McCoy. "If ye're going to be a _spoil sport_..."

Jim, McCoy, Scotty, Uhura and Sulu chuckled. McCoy kept watch on Chekov out of the corner of his eye.

Chekov still looked at his hands, but had produced a small smile at everyone's announcement, and a then bigger one at McCoy's joke.

"You _in_ , Kid?" McCoy asked quietly.

Everyone turned to look at him.

"I think that I could be hungry." Chekov nodded, looking as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He glanced around and gave them all a crooked smile. "As long as no one snitches to my doctor, if I choose to eat my dessert first."

"Won't hear it from _me_ ," McCoy said with a smile, holding up his hands in surrender.

Chekov finally looked McCoy in the eyes. He smiled and nodded shyly.

 _We're going to be **okay** , the kid, Nyota and I, _McCoy thought with relief. _He'll still need that counseling, and maybe be a bit tentative with Uhura and I for a while. Nightmares with our faces on it won't help anything. But we're going to be **okay**._

McCoy glanced at Uhura, who'd seen the exchange and winked back at him.

Jim ordered the lights off after everyone had all moved so they could see the stars better. Then he started playing something complicated and beautiful, that sounded more hopeful and serene than what he'd been playing before.

McCoy settled back against the lockers to listen to the music and watch the view. He finally felt content with the way things had worked out.

It wasn't perfect, but what was?

_This Elf Shelf space is much better than my old, empty cabin. It **was** time to move on. Now, with all of us in it, this space is starting to feel like a family room, inside our **home**. _

_And as that ancient saying goes, there really isn't any other place in the universe, **any** universe, like it. _

_May the **Defiant'** s crew find peace, with their own loved ones around them, when they finally reach theirs. _

_May we **all** find our way home, in the end._

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this fusion of "The Tholian Web" and "Mirror, Mirror". I got the plot bunny of actually having the Enterprise pulled into the rift with the Defiant early on, and I couldn't let it just end there! So the "Mirror, Mirror" universe was pretty much going to have to happen after that.
> 
> Originally, I though of the story as "Lost in the Mirror". But I found I was thinking of them as two seperate works, so decided to post them as as such. I don't know that it makes any real difference to anyone but me, but there it is. 
> 
> And in the Mirror universe, I can't help but see the Vulcans take control of the various species around them as they spread out, if they had actually rejected Surak and his philosphy. For me, that made more sense than the Humans overcoming the Vulcans. But we have the all the movies after the original episodes that those early writers didn't. So I still enjoy both TV episodes for what they were. : D 'Cause Uhura with a boot knife is just priceless.


End file.
